ould be no longer sure of being loved for himself.

Madame des Aubels felt neither contempt nor surprise at this attitude;
she was gentle and temperate, she knew men, and judged that one must
take them as one found them, that for the most part they do not give
very willingly, and that a woman should know how to make them give.

Suddenly a gas lamp was lighted in the street, and shone through the
gaps in the curtains.

"Half-past six," she said. "We must be on the move."

Pricked by the touch of Time's fleeting wing, Maurice was conscious of
reawakened desires and reanimated powers. A white and radiant offering,
Gilberte, with her head thrown back, her eyes half closed, her lips
apart, sunk in dreamy languor, was breathing slowly and placidly, when
suddenly she started up with a cry of terror.

"Whatever is that?"

"Stay still," said Maurice, holding her back in his arms.

In his present mood, had the sky fallen it would not have troubled him.
But in one bound she escaped from him. Crouching down, her eyes filled
with terror, she was pointing with her finger at a figure which appeared
in a corner of the room, between the fire-place and the wardrobe with
the mirror. Then, unable to bear the sight, and nearly fainting, she hid
her face in her hands.

CHAPTER X

WHICH FAR SURPASSES IN AUDACITY THE IMAGINATIVE FLIGHTS OF
DANTE AND MILTON

Maurice at length turned his head, saw the figure, and perceiving that
it moved, was also frightened. Meanwhile, Gilberte was regaining her
senses. She imagined that what she had seen was some mistress whom her
lover had hidden in the room. Inflamed with anger and disgust at the
idea of such treachery, boiling with indignation, and glaring at her
supposed rival, she exclaimed:

"A woman ... a naked woman too! You bring me into a room where you allow
your women to come, and when I arrive they have not had time to dress.
And you reproach me with arriving late! Your impudence is beyond belief!
Come, send the creature packing. If you wanted us both here together,
you might at least have asked me whether it suited me...."

Maurice, wide-eyed and groping for a revolver that had never been there,
whispered in her ear:

"Be quiet ... it is no woman. One can scarcely see, but it is more like
a man."

She put her hands over her eyes again and screamed harder than ever.

"A man! Where does he come from? A thief. An assassin! Help! Help! Kill
him.... Maurice, kill h