He walked toward the cliff, and, being perfectly certain that there was nobody in front of him, he decided to ascend the staircase cut in the lava, turning every moment to see if the Piccinino were following him. His heart beat very fast, for a conflict with him upon that staircase would have been decisive. On seeing him there, the brigand would have realized that he had been deceived, that Michel was Agatha's lover--and to what extremities would his rage not have impelled him? Michel did not fear a bloody struggle on his own account; but how could he prevent Carmelo from wreaking vengeance upon Agatha, if he should come forth alive from that struggle? Nevertheless, Michel kept on to the top, and, having made sure that he was not followed, entered the flower-garden, locked the gate, and approached Agatha's boudoir. The room was lighted, but empty. A moment later a maid came and extinguished the candles, then went away. All was silence and darkness. Michel had never been more intensely disturbed. His heart beat as if it would burst, as the silence and uncertainty continued. What was taking place in Agatha's apartments? Her bedroom was behind the boudoir; it could be entered from the flower-garden through a short passage where a lamp was still burning. Michel could see it by looking through the key-hole of the carved door. Perhaps that door was not locked on the inside. Michel tried it, and, meeting with no resistance, entered the Casino. Where was he going and what did he intend to do? He had no very clear idea himself. He said to himself that he was going to the assistance of Agatha, whose security was threatened by the Piccinino. He did not choose to admit that he was spurred on by the demon of jealousy. He fancied that he could hear voices in Agatha's bedroom. They were two women's voices: they might be Agatha's and her maid's, or the second one might be Carmelo's soft and almost feminine voice. Michel stood irresolute, trembling from head to foot. If he should go back into the flower-garden, the door of the passage-way would doubtless soon be locked by the maid; and in that case how was he to get in again unless by breaking a pane of glass in the boudoir--an expedient suited to the genius of the Piccinino, but naturally repugnant to Michel. It seemed to him that centuries had passed since he saw the bandit climb the wall; but it was less than a quarter of an hour. However, one can live years in a minute, and he said to himself that the Piccinino had evidently preceded him, as he was so slow about following him. Suddenly the door of Agatha's bedroom opened, and Michel had barely time to step behind the pedestal of the statue which held the lamp. "Lock the garden door," said Agatha to her maid, who came out of the bedroom, "but leave this one open; it is horribly hot in my room."