"Let us go then."
Helene took the chevalier's arm, and crossed the drawing-room, where sat Madame Desroches, pale with anger, and scrawling a letter, whose destination we can guess.
"Mon Dieu! mademoiselle, where are you going? what are you doing?"
"I am going away from a house where my honor is threatened."
"What!" cried the old lady, springing to her feet, "you are going away with your lover."
"You are mistaken, madame," replied Helene, in an accent of dignity, "it is with my husband."
Madame Desroches, terrified, let her hands fall by her side, powerless.
"You shall not go, mademoiselle, even if I am forced to use violence."
"Try, madame," said Helene, in the queenly tone which seemed natural to her.
"Hola, Picard, Coutourier, Blanchet."