all chandelier and a pair of candelabra; whilst the other apartment
was plunged in shadow, the swinging crystal lamp alone casting on the
floor a twilight gleam. Malignon drew out his watch.

"The deuce!" he muttered. "Is she going to keep me waiting again?"

He gave vent to a slight yawn. He had been waiting for an hour
already, and it was small amusement to him. However, he rose and cast
a glance over his preparations.

The arrangement of the chairs did not please him, and he rolled a
couch in front of the fireplace. The cretonne hangings had a ruddy
glow, as they reflected the light of the candles; the room was warm,
silent, and cozy, while outside the wind came and went in sudden
gusts. All at once the young man heard three hurried knocks at the
door. It was the signal.

"At last!" he exclaimed aloud, his face beaming jubilantly.

He ran to open the door, and Juliette entered, her face veiled, her
figure wrapped in a fur mantle. While Malignon was gently closing the
door, she stood still for a moment, with the emotion that checked the
words on her lips undetected.

However, before the young man had had time to take her hand, she
raised her veil, and displayed a smiling face, rather pale, but quite
unruffled.

"What! you have lighted up the place!" she exclaimed. "Why? I thought
you hated candles in broad daylight!"

Malignon, who had been making ready to clasp her with a passionate
gesture that he had been rehearsing, was put somewhat out of
countenance by this remark, and hastened to explain that the day was
too wretched, and that the windows looked on to waste patches of
ground. Besides, night was his special delight.

"Well, one never knows how to take you," she retorted jestingly. "Last
spring, at my children's ball, you made such a fuss, declaring that
the place was like some cavern, some dead-house. However, let us say
that your taste has changed."

She seemed to be paying a mere visit, and affected a courage which
slightly deepened her voice. This was the only indication of her
uneasiness. At times her chin twitched somewhat, as though she felt
some uneasiness in her throat. But her eyes were sparkling, and she
tasted to the full the keen pleasure born of her imprudence. She
thought of Madame de Chermette, of whom such scandalous stories were
related. Good heavens! it seemed strange all the same.

"Let us have a look round," she began.

And thereupon she began inspecting the apartment. He follo