, being
somewhat indisposed, but that the key was in the door. The apartment of
which Mlle. Moriaz was in quest was composed of three rooms, a vestibule
serving as a kitchen, a tiny _salon_, and a bed-chamber. She paused a
few moments in the vestibule to regain her breath, to gather together
all her courage, to compose her mind; she had at once divined that there
was some one in the _salon_. She entered; Mlle. Galet was not there, but
he was there, the man whom she had come to seek. Apparently, he awaited
the awakening of the mistress of the place. In perceiving the woman whom
he had sworn never to see again, he trembled violently, and his eyes
sought some loophole of escape; there was none. Standing upon the
threshold, Antoinette barred the passage. She looked fixedly at him and
felt certain of her victory; he had the air of one vanquished, and his
defeat resembled a complete routing.

She crossed her arms, she smiled, and, in a firm, half-mocking tone,
said:

"So this is the way you rob me of my poor people! They flourish under
it, I am well aware. Confess now that there is a little hypocrisy in
your virtue. Mlle. Galet never for a moment doubted that these famous
camellias were given for my sake. Bouquets costing sixty francs!
absolute folly! How you despise money! Why, then, do you not despise
mine? You are afraid of it, you fear to burn your fingers by touching
it. You will not aid me to throw it out of the windows? Your poor and
mine will surely pick it up. Say, will you not? My fortune is not such a
great affair; but it is certain that I alone do not suffice to spend it
properly; there is plenty for two--for two would really only be one. You
cannot consent to share it with me? You are too proud--that is it. The
day before yesterday you were playing comedy; you do not love me. It
costs little to owe something to those we love."

He made a gesture of despair and cried:

"I implore you, let me go!"

"Presently; I propose telling you first all that is in my mind. I do
not place much reliance on your boasted nobility of spirit; it is pride,
egotistical pride. Yes, your pride is your god--a pitiful sort of a god!
And as to Poland--" He winced at this word. After a pause, Antoinette
continued: "It is she herself who will give, or rather lend, you to me.
I solemnly promise that if ever she has need of you I will say to her,
'Here he is, take him'; and to you, yourself, I will say, 'She calls
you--go.' But speak to