hands were still creeping on.
She stammered out that the doctor must have started on his round of
visits. Her eyes were riveted on the dial. Meantime, Monsieur Rambaud
remained standing hat in hand, and beginning his story once more.
These poor people had sold everything, even their stove, and since the
setting in of winter had spent their days and nights alike without a
fire. At the close of December they had been four days without food.
Helene gave vent to a cry of compassion. The hands of the clock now
marked twenty minutes to three. Monsieur Rambaud devoted another two
minutes to his farewell: "Well, I depend on you," he said. And
stooping to kiss Jeanne, he added: "Good-bye, my darling."

"Good-bye; don't worry; mamma won't forget. I'll make her remember."

When Helene came back from the ante-room, whither she had gone in
company with Monsieur Rambaud, the hands of the clock pointed to a
quarter to three. Another quarter of an hour and all would be over. As
she stood motionless before the fireplace, the scene which was about
to be enacted flashed before her eyes: Juliette was already there;
Henri entered and surprised her. She knew the room; she could see the
scene in its minutest details with terrible vividness. And still
affected by Monsieur Rambaud's awful story she felt a mighty shudder
rise from her limbs to her face. A voice cried out within her that
what she had done--the writing of that letter, that cowardly
denunciation--was a crime. The truth came to her with dazzling
clearness. Yes, it was a crime she had committed! She recalled to
memory the gesture with which she had flung the letter into the box;
she recalled it with a sense of stupor such as might come over one on
seeing another commit an evil action, without thought of intervening.
She was as if awaking from a dream. What was it that had happened? Why
was she here, with eyes ever fixed on the hands of that dial? Two more
minutes had slipped away.

"Mamma," said Jeanne, "if you like, we'll go to see the doctor
together to-night. It will be a walk for me. I feel stifling to-day."

Helene, however, did not hear; thirteen minutes must yet elapse. But
she could not allow so horrible a thing to take place! In this stormy
awakening of her rectitude she felt naught but a furious craving to
prevent it. She must prevent it; otherwise she would be unable to
live. In a state of frenzy she ran about her bedroom.

"Ah, you're going to take me!" exclaimed Jea