And he pushed a small occasional-table towards her, ceasing to look at her, so as not to frighten her too much. She shuddered. He wanted a page of her handwriting, in order to compare it with the letter. For a moment she despairingly sought a pretext, resolved not to write. Then she reflected: what was the good of that, as he knew? It would be easy to obtain a few lines she had penned. Without any visible discomposure, in the simplest manner in the world, she wrote down what he asked her for; while he, standing up behind her, recognised the writing perfectly, although taller and less shaky than that in the note. And he ended by thinking this slim little woman very brave. He smiled again, now she was unable to see him, with that smile of the man who is no longer touched by anything, save the charm, and whom experience in everything has made insouciant. After all, it was not worth the trouble to be just. He only watched over the decorative part of the régime he served. "Very well, madam," said he, "give me this. I will make inquiries; I will do the best I can." "I am very much obliged to you, sir," she answered. "So you will see that my husband is maintained in his position? I may consider the affair arranged?" "Ah! no, indeed!" he exclaimed; "I bind myself to nothing. I shall have to see, to think the matter over." In fact he was hesitating. He did not know what course he would follow in regard to the couple. And she was in anguish, since she felt herself at his mercy: this hesitation, this alternative of being saved or ruined by him, without being able to guess the reasons that would influence him in his decision, drove her crazy. "Oh! sir! think how tormented we are! You will not let me leave without a certainty," she pleaded. "Indeed, madam, I can do nothing. You must wait," said he. He led her to the door. She was going away in despair, beside herself, on the point of confessing everything, openly, feeling the immediate necessity of forcing him to say distinctly what he intended doing with them. To remain a minute longer, hoping to find a subterfuge, she exclaimed: "Ah! I forgot! I wished to ask your advice about that wretched will. Do you think we ought to refuse the legacy?" "The law is on your side," he prudently answered. "It is a matter of appreciation, and of circumstances." She was on the threshold of the door, and she made a final effort. "Sir," said she, "do not allow me to leave thus! Tell me if I may hope." With a gesture of abandonment, she had seized his hand. He drew it away. But she looked at him with her beautiful eyes so ardent with prayer, that he was stirred. "Very well, then, return here at five o'clock. Perhaps I may have something to tell you."