"She will not know where to go, she will stand gossipping with any fool who asks her a question, and in this time I would wager a piece of twenty _sous_ the police or some other busy-body will have got on the track. What more likely? And there's an end to our luck. Why did I let her waste all these moments? Why didn't I go myself? Women always muddle things. There would have been a scene, beyond doubt. '_Hola!_--thunder and lightning, who may this be?'" Jean planted himself in an attitude, and struck his chest violently. "Then I should have drawn myself up, always with dignity--thus--'This, gentlemen, is none other than Jean Didier!'--'Who? What!'--'Jean Didier, at your service, gentlemen, falsely denounced as Communist, executed and reported dead, but, as you see alive, and able to render an important service to an ungrateful country.'--That sounds sublime! I flatter myself it would have produced an impression. Why didn't I go? Women, with all their good intentions, haven't an idea of the value of a stroke like that! It requires genius. And I foresee my excellent Marie will muddle the whole affair, very likely allow them to pick her brains and cajole the number out of her, then one of these _messieurs_ will slip off and secure the reward." Excitement got a strong hold upon Jean as this idea presented itself, and his castles toppled over. "That's it, that's how it will go! And I deserve it for having left such a delicate affair in the hands of a woman. I could have managed it to a turn, and here I have let her go off, and the whole thing will slip through her fingers. I could beat myself with vexation." In effect, he stamped his foot with such violence that Perine jumped up and, looking round, saw him vanishing behind the curtains. She shrieked with terror, "The man! Oh, it's the man!" White as death, Jean rushed out and tried to calm her. "Hush, child, hush! it's only me!" But Perine was past all control, she screamed for "Mother!" for "M. Plon!" until it seemed to Jean that not only the house but the whole neighbourhood would presently be on him. He tried coaxing, he tried menace, but Perine shrieked the more. "Will you hold your tongue!" he cried, with a wild thought of strangling her. "I'm a friend, I'm not the man; I won't touch you. Perine, Perine, don't cry out so, look at me!" At this appeal she hid her eyes with her hands.