The perfect stillness and silence made her raise her eyes at last, reluctantly, with a hard, defensive expression which I had never seen in them before. And no wonder! The glance was meant for Therese and assumed in self-defence. For some time its character did not change and when it did it turned into a perfectly stony stare of a kind which I also had never seen before. She had never wished so much to be left in peace. She had never been so astonished in her life. She had arrived by the evening express only two hours before Señor Ortega, had driven to the house, and after having something to eat had become for the rest of the evening the helpless prey of her sister who had fawned and scolded and wheedled and threatened in a way that outraged all Rita’s feelings. Seizing this unexpected occasion Therese had displayed a distracting versatility of sentiment: rapacity, virtue, piety, spite, and false tenderness—while, characteristically enough, she unpacked the dressing-bag, helped the sinner to get ready for bed, brushed her hair, and finally, as a climax, kissed her hands, partly by surprise and partly by violence. After that she had retired from the field of battle slowly, undefeated, still defiant, firing as a last shot the impudent question: “Tell me only, have you made your will, Rita?” To this poor Doña Rita with the spirit of opposition strung to the highest pitch answered: “No, and I don’t mean to”—being under the impression that this was what her sister wanted her to do. There can be no doubt, however, that all Therese wanted was the information. Rita, much too agitated to expect anything but a sleepless night, had not the courage to get into bed. She thought she would remain on the sofa before the fire and try to compose herself with a book. As she had no dressing-gown with her she put on her long fur coat over her night-gown, threw some logs on the fire, and lay down. She didn’t hear the slightest noise of any sort till she heard me shut the door gently. Quietness of movement was one of Therese’s accomplishments, and the harassed heiress of the Allègre millions naturally thought it was her sister coming again to renew the scene. Her heart sank within her. In the end she became a little frightened at the long silence, and raised her eyes. She didn’t believe them for a long time. She concluded that I was a vision. In fact, the first word which I heard her utter was a low, awed “No,” which, though I understood its meaning, chilled my blood like an evil omen. It was then that I spoke. “Yes,” I said, “it’s me that you see,” and made a step forward. She didn’t start; only her other hand flew to the edges of the fur coat, gripping them together over her breast. Observing this gesture I sat down in the nearest chair. The book she had been reading slipped with a thump on the floor. “How is it possible that you should be here?” she said, still in a doubting voice.