She had not seen me; for, as she came in, she bowed, without looking at all the people assembled in the room; and then, guided by Caroline, she went to a seat at once. I was almost behind her; I dared not move or breathe. “Messieurs,” said Mademoiselle Derbin, “madame has consented to accede to my entreaties; but I had a vast deal of difficulty in inducing her to leave her retreat, and you owe me much gratitude.” The gentlemen thanked Caroline, who had seated herself near Eugénie. The conversation began anew. Eugénie took little part in it; she talked with no one but Mademoiselle Derbin, who questioned her about her health. I heard one of the young men say to Monsieur Roquencourt: “I recognize that lady, I saw her at a party in Paris two years ago. Her name is Madame Blémont, and her husband has deserted her; he was a good-for-nothing, a gambler, a rake.” “Poor woman!” said Monsieur Roquencourt; “there are so many of those rascals of husbands who act in that way! to say nothing of the Beverleys, the Othellos, the--I was asked once to play Beverley, and it is the only part that I ever refused!” I glanced at the young man who had named my wife. I was quite certain that he did not know me, for I could not remember that I had ever met him in society. But I cannot describe what I suffered; the sight of Eugénie had revived all my pain. I would have liked to fly, but I dared not; I was afraid to move hand or foot; if she should turn her head slightly, she would see me. However, that situation could not last long. Caroline, having ceased to talk to Eugénie, turned to me and said: “Well, Monsieur Dalbreuse, why do you stand so far away? You look as if you were sulking. Pray come and talk with us a little.” I did not know what reply to make. But Eugénie had pushed her chair back as if to make room for me beside her neighbor; at the same moment she turned her eyes in my direction. Instantly I saw her sway from side to side, and her head fell against the back of her chair. “This lady is ill!” cried Caroline, leaning over her. “Some salts, messieurs, quickly! Open the window; perhaps she needs air.” There was a general movement. I rose with the rest and was about to leave the salon, but Caroline called me, detained me, begged me to help her to carry the invalid to the window, which had been opened. How could I avoid doing what she asked? And then too, the sight of that woman, whose eyes were closed and whose pale lips and emaciated features indicated great suffering, caused me profound emotion, and a sentiment which almost resembled pleasure. I was not hardhearted, but she had injured me so deeply! It seemed to me that I was beginning to have my revenge. Why then should I leave that salon? Was it for me to fly? No, I proposed to see how she would endure my presence. While these ideas flitted through my mind, Caroline pushed me toward the chair in which Eugénie was sitting, saying: