He darted frightened glances to right and left as they walked out. When they reached the street, and he saw Mme. Chambannes' own carriage waiting, he was unable to dominate a desire to run away. He took off his hat. "Good-by, dear madame.... I hope soon to meet you again.... Please give my compliments to M. Chambannes." Zozé protested. "What, master! Don't you want me to drive you home?... In such weather!" With a quizzical frown she showed him the sidewalk which the thawing temperature had apparently coated with syrupy iced coffee. The master declined. From outside her coupé, Zozé insisted, beating the leather of the cushions as if she were calling a little dog. M. Raindal lost all his composure. If the students, or some of his colleagues were to see him in this ludicrous position! Fear carried the day. He sat beside Mme. Chambannes. "That's better. It would have been silly to refuse," Zozé said, and she lowered the front window to give the address to her coachman. When she closed it again, M. Raindal noticed with relief that all the panes were covered with steam. Protected from sight by the opaque glass, he began to feel more at ease. He smiled at Mme. Chambannes, who was smiling at him. The carriage rolled rapidly over the carpet of yellow snow. A soft warmth came from the hot water can; the pleasant scent of morocco leather blended with that of violets. M. Raindal sighed with comfort and, waking up, said paternally, to try to blot out the rudeness of his attempted leave-taking: "It appears then, dear madame, that the lecture did not bore you too much?" "Quite the contrary! Moreover, I firmly hope that, next time...." "What next time?" "I mean the next lecture I attend," Zozé corrected, "and those after...." M. Raindal darkened. "Are you thinking of coming again?" "Perhaps!... Why not?... Are you angry?..." "Not at all, dear madame, not at all!" He could say no more. He was paralyzed with stupefaction. So! She wanted to come every Monday, to attend all his lectures, publicly to compromise him, turn him into a laughing-stock for the whole Collège, the scientific world and perhaps the whole press! He fancied that he heard the voice of Cyprien: "Ah ha!... it appears that Mme. Rhâm-Bâhan"--the younger Raindal never used any other name for Mme. Chambannes--"it appears that Mme. Rhâm-Bâhan takes to Egyptology.... Bravo! Charming! Delightful!" Then would follow the sly irony of his colleagues, the jealous jests, the allusions, the scandal! No, no! M. Raindal was not going to risk such a misadventure as had often wrecked the careers of many of his illustrious colleagues, because of the fancies of a lady who was, he did not deny it, graceful, attractive and sympathetic, but nevertheless frivolous and devoid of reflective power. He declared firmly: