It was the girl's treason that angered her more than anything. With a scornful gesture she pushed Lazare aside, as though he were a child of whose pitiful weakness she was well aware. But this girl, her own familiar friend, had stolen her husband from her while she was busy nursing a sick man down below! She caught her by the shoulders, shook her, and was scarcely able to keep from striking her. 'What do you mean by this? Tell me! You have been behaving infamously, shamelessly! Do you hear me?' Then Louise, still in a state of stupor, and with her eyes wandering vacantly, stammered: 'He held me; I could not get away.' 'He! Why, he would have burst into tears if you had simply pushed him with your little finger!' The sight of the room itself increased her anger--that room where she and Lazare had loved each other, where she, too, had felt her blood pulse more quickly through her veins at the warm touch of the young man's breath. What should she do to this girl to satisfy her vengeance? Lazare, dazed, overcome with embarrassment, had just resolved to attempt some interference, when Pauline dashed Louise from her so violently that the girl's shoulders struck the wardrobe. 'Ah! I'm afraid of myself. Be off!' And that was all she could now find to say. She chased the other through the room, drove her out upon the landing and down the staircase, crying after her perpetually: 'Be off! be off! Get your things together and be off!' Madame Chanteau was still standing on the landing of the first floor. The rapidity of the scene had given her no opportunity to interfere. But she now recovered her power of speech and signed to Lazare to shut himself in his own room, while she tried to soothe Pauline, pretending at first to be very much surprised at what had happened. Meantime Pauline, having driven Louise into her bedroom, still kept on repeating: 'Be off! be off!' 'What do you mean?' her aunt asked her. 'Why is she to be off? Are you losing your head?' Then the young girl stammered out the whole story. She was overcome with disgust. To her frank, honourable nature such conduct appeared utterly shameless and incapable of either excuse or pardon. The more she thought about it the more indignant she felt, rebelling against it all in her horror of deceit and her faithfulness of heart. When one had once bestowed one's self, one could not withdraw the gift. 'Be off! Pack up your things at once and be off!' she repeated. Louise, completely overcome, unable to find a word to say in her own defence, had already opened her drawers to get her clothes together. But Madame Chanteau was growing angry. 'Stay where you are, Louisette. Am I the mistress of my own house? Who is it that presumes to give orders here and allows herself to send my guests away? Such behaviour is infamous! We are not living in a slum here!' 'Didn't you hear me, then?' cried Pauline. 'I caught her up there with Lazare. He had her in his arms, and was kissing her!'