"He? What can he do to me? Why, I will follow him like his shadow--I will cry out everywhere the name of this other. Will he have me put in St. Lazare prison? I will invent the most dreadful calumnies against him. They will not believe me at first; later, part of it will be believed. I have nothing to fear--I have no parents, no friends, nobody on earth who cares for me. That's what it is to raise girls from the gutter. I have fallen so low that I defy him to push me lower. So, if you are his friend, sir, advise him to come back to me." Sauvresy was really alarmed; he saw clearly how real and earnest Jenny's menaces were. There are persecutions against which the law is powerless. But he dissimulated his alarm under the blandest air he could assume. "Hear me, my child," said he. "If I give you my word of honor to tell you the truth, you'll believe me, won't you?" She hesitated a moment, and said: "Yes, you are honorable; I will believe you." "Then, I swear to you that Tremorel hopes to marry a young girl who is immensely rich, whose dowry will secure his future." "He tells you so; he wants you to believe it." "Why should he? Since he came to Valfeuillu, he could have had no other affair than this with you. He lives in my house, as if he were my brother, between my wife and myself, and I could tell you how he spends his time every hour of every day as well as what I do myself." Jenny opened her mouth to reply, but a sudden reflection froze the words on her lips. She remained silent and blushed violently, looking at Sauvresy with an indefinable expression. He did not observe this, being inspired by a restless though aimless curiosity. This proof, which Jenny talked about, worried him. "Suppose," said he, "you should show me this letter." She seemed to feel at these words an electric shock. "To you?" she said, shuddering. "Never!" If, when one is sleeping, the thunder rolls and the storm bursts, it often happens that the sleep is not troubled; then suddenly, at a certain moment, the imperceptible flutter of a passing insect's wing awakens one. Jenny's shudder was like such a fluttering to Sauvresy. The sinister light of doubt struck on his soul. Now his confidence, his happiness, his repose, were gone forever. He rose with a flashing eye and trembling lips. "Give me the letter," said he, in an imperious tone. Jenny recoiled with terror. She tried to conceal her agitation, to smile, to turn the matter into a joke. "Not to-day," said she. "Another time; you are too curious." But Sauvresy's anger was terrible; he became as purple as if he had had a stroke of apoplexy, and he repeated, in a choking voice: "The letter, I demand the letter." "Impossible," said Jenny. "Because," she added, struck with an idea, "I haven't got it here." "Where is it?" "At my room, in Paris." "Come, then, let us go there."