The old woman looked at her with a fixed stare; then her flabby face gently softened into a smile of tender pity. "Poor dear," she muttered, "you have been crying; don't deny it, I can see it by your eyes. You must be strong and accept life. Come, let me arrange the little matter in question." Renée rose up, twisting her fingers, and making her gloves crack. And she remained standing, quite shaken by a cruel internal struggle. She was opening her mouth, to accept perhaps, when a gentle ring at the bell resounded in the next room. Madame Sidonie hastily went out, leaving the door ajar, so that a double row of pianos could be seen. The young woman then heard a man's step, and the stifled sound of a conversation carried on in an undertone. She mechanically went to examine more closely the yellowish stain with which the mattresses had streaked the wall. This stain disturbed her, made her ill at ease. Forgetting everything, Maxime, the fifty thousand francs, and Monsieur de Saffré, she stepped back to the front of the bed, reflecting; this bed had been much better placed, as it had formerly stood; some women were really wanting in taste; of a certainty when one lay down one must have the light in one's eyes. And in the depths of her memory she vaguely saw the figure of the stranger of the Quai Saint-Paul rise up, her novel in two assignations, that chance amour which she had partaken of, there, at that other place. The wearing away of the wall paper was all that remained of it. Then the room filled her with uneasiness, and the hum of voices which continued in the next apartment made her feel impatient. When Madame Sidonie returned, opening and closing the door with due precaution, she made repeated signs with the tips of her fingers, to recommend Renée to speak low. Then, she whispered in her ear: "You don't know, the adventure's a good one: it's Monsieur de Saffré who's there." "You didn't tell him though that I was here?" asked the young woman anxiously. The agent seemed surprised, and with an air of great simplicity answered: "But I did--He is waiting for me to tell him to come in. Of course I didn't speak about the fifty thousand francs--" Renée, who was quite pale, had drawn herself up as if she had been struck with a whip. A great pride again rose to her heart. That creaking of boots, which she heard growing louder in the next room, exasperated her: "I am going," she said curtly. "Come and open the door for me." Madame Sidonie tried to smile. "Don't be childish," she said. "I can't be left with that fellow on my hands, since I have told him you are here--You really compromise me--" But the young woman had already descended the little staircase. She repeated, in front of the closed shop door: "Open it, open it."