Prayers were over; it was bed-time; my co-inmates were all retired. I still remained in the gloomy first _classe_, forgetting, or at least disregarding, rules I had never forgotten or disregarded before. How long I paced that _classe_, I cannot tell; I must have been afoot many hours. Mechanically had I moved aside benches and desks, and had made for myself a path down its length. There I walked, and there, when certain that the whole household were abed and quite out of hearing, there I at last wept. Reliant on night, confiding in solitude, I kept my tears sealed, my sobs chained, no longer. They heaved my heart; they tore their way. In this house, what grief could be sacred! Soon after eleven o'clock--a very late hour in the Rue Fossette--the door unclosed, quietly, but not stealthily; a lamp's flame invaded the moonlight. Madame Beck entered, with the same composed air as if coming on an ordinary occasion, at an ordinary season. Instead of at once addressing me, she went to her desk, took her keys, and seemed to seek something. She loitered over this feigned search long, too long. She was calm, too calm. My mood scarce endured the pretence. Driven beyond common rage, two hours since I had left behind me wonted respects and fears. Led by a touch and ruled by a word under usual circumstances, no yoke could now be borne, no curb obeyed. 'It is more than time for retirement,' said madame. 'The rule of the house has already been transgressed too long.' Madame met no answer. I did not check my walk. When she came in my way I put her out of it. 'Let me persuade you to calm, Meess; let me lead you to your chamber,' said she, trying to speak softly. 'No!' I said. 'Neither you nor another shall persuade or lead me.' 'Your bed shall be warmed. Goton is sitting up still. She shall make you comfortable. She shall give you a sedative.' 'Madame,' I broke out, 'you are a sensualist. Under all your serenity, your peace, and your decorum, you are an undenied sensualist. Make your own bed warm and soft; take sedatives and meats, and drinks spiced and sweet, as much as you will. If you have any sorrow or disappointment (and perhaps you have--nay, I _know_ you have) seek your own palliatives in your own chosen resources. Leave me, however. _Leave me_, I say!' 'I must send another to watch you, Meess; I must send Goton.' 'I forbid it. Let me alone. Keep your hand off me, and my life, and my troubles. O madame! in _your_ hand there is both chill and poison. You envenom and you paralyse.' 'What have I done, Meess? You must not marry Paul. He cannot marry.'