“No, no!” she said again. “Let me go; you are hurting me!” And thereupon, as he refused to release her, she twisted herself violently from his grasp. She was acting in obedience to some strange emotion; she felt angry with herself and with him. In her agitation some disjointed phrases escaped her lips. Yes, indeed, he rewarded her badly for her trust. What a brute he was! She even called him a coward. Never in her life would she see him again. But he allowed her to talk on, and ran after her with a wicked and brutal laugh. And at last she could do no more than gasp in the momentary refuge which she had sought behind a chair. They were there, gazing at one another, her face transformed by shame and his by passion, when a noise broke through the stillness. At first they did not grasp its significance. A door had opened, some steps crossed the room, and a voice called to them: “Fly! fly! You will be caught!” It was Hélène. Astounded, they both gazed at her. So great was their stupefaction that they lost consciousness of their embarrassing situation. Juliette indeed displayed no sign of confusion. “Fly! fly!” said Hélène again. “Your husband will be here in two minutes.” “My husband!” stammered the young woman; “my husband!—why—for what reason?” She was losing her wits. Her brain was in a turmoil. It seemed to her prodigious that Hélène should be standing there speaking to her of her husband. But Hélène made an angry gesture. “Oh! if you think I’ve time to explain,” said she,—“he is on the way here. I give you warning. Disappear at once, both of you.” Then Juliette’s agitation became extraordinary. She ran about the rooms like a maniac, screaming out disconnected sentences. “My God! my God!—I thank you.—Where is my cloak?—How horrid it is, this room being so dark!—Give me my cloak.—Bring me a candle, to help me to find my cloak.—My dear, you mustn’t mind if I don’t stop to thank you.—I can’t get my arms into the sleeves—no, I can’t get them in—no, I can’t!” She was paralyzed with fear, and Hélène was obliged to assist her with her cloak. She put her bonnet on awry, and did not even tie the ribbons. The worst of it, however, was that they lost quite a minute in hunting for her veil, which had fallen on the floor. Her words came with a gasp; her trembling hands moved about in bewilderment, fumbling over her person to ascertain whether she might be leaving anything behind which might compromise her. “Oh, what a lesson! what a lesson! Thank goodness, it is well over!” Malignon was very pale, and made a sorry appearance. His feet beat a tattoo on the ground, as he realized that he was both scorned and ridiculous. His lips could only give utterance to the wretched question: “Then you think I ought to go away as well?”