that man the day after to-morrow--she knew the day. Then the
thought struck her that she ought to speak to Juliette and warn her
against sin. But this kindly thought chilled her to the heart, and she
drove it from her mind as though it were out of place, and deep in
meditation gazed at the grate, where a smouldering log was crackling.
The air was still heavy and oppressive with the perfumes from the
ladies' hair.

"What! you are here!" exclaimed Juliette as she entered. "Well, you
are kind not to run away all at once. At last we can breathe!"

Helene was surprised, and made a movement as though about to rise; but
Juliette went on: "Wait, wait, you are in no hurry. Henri, get me my
smelling-salts."

Three or four persons, intimate friends, had lingered behind the
others. They sat before the dying fire and chatted with delightful
freedom, while the vast room wearily sank into a doze. The doors were
open, and they saw the smaller drawing-room empty, the dining-room
deserted, the whole suite of rooms still lit up and plunged in
unbroken silence. Henri displayed a tender gallantry towards his wife;
he had run up to their bedroom for her smelling-salts, which she
inhaled with closed eyes, whilst he asked her if she had not fatigued
herself too much. Yes, she felt somewhat tired; but she was delighted
--everything had gone off so well. Next she told them that on her
reception nights she could not sleep, but tossed about till six
o'clock in the morning. Henri's face broke into a smile, and some
quizzing followed. Helene looked at them, and quivered amidst the
benumbing drowsiness which little by little seemed to fall upon the
whole house.

However, only two guests now remained. Pierre had gone in search of a
cab. Helene remained the last. One o'clock struck. Henri, no longer
standing on ceremony, rose on tiptoe and blew out two candles in the
chandelier which were dangerously heating their crystal sconces. As
the lights died out one by one, it seemed like a bedroom scene, the
gloom of an alcove spreading over all.

"I am keeping you up!" exclaimed Helene, as she suddenly rose to her
feet. "You must turn me out."

A flush of red dyed her face; her blood, racing through her veins,
seemed to stifle her. They walked with her into the hall, but the air
there was chilly, and the doctor was somewhat alarmed for his wife in
her low dress.

"Go back; you will do yourself harm. You are too warm."

"Very well; good-bye," said