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Then he looked
at her again. The intense femininity of her lured him on, invited
him, surrendered to him. Her face was pale, there was a glitter in
her eyes, a curious smile upon her parted lips, and under its
fichu-menteur her bosom rose and fell to complete the betrayal of her.
By the hand he continued to hold, he drew her towards him. She came
unresisting. He took the candle from her, and set it down on the
sideboard by which she stood. The next moment her slight, lithe
body was in his arms, and he was kissing her, murmuring her name as
if it were a prayer.
"Am I cruel now?" she asked him, panting. He kissed her again for
only answer. "You made me cruel because you would not see," she
told him next in a whisper.
And then the door opened, and M. Binet came in to have his paternal
eyes regaled by this highly indecorous behaviour of his daughter.
He stood at gaze, whilst they quite leisurely, and in a
self-possession too complete to be natural, detached each from
the other.
"And what may be the meaning of this?" demanded M.


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