Arm in arm, pressed close to one another, they went along the streets; their bodies felt so light they seemed to be flying.
They went to the Amour peintre. On reaching the Oratoire:
"Better not go through the shop," Élodie suggested.
She made him go in by the main coach-door and mount the stairs with her to the suite of rooms above. On the landing she drew out of her reticule a heavy iron key.
"It might be the key of a prison," she exclaimed, "Évariste, you are going to be my prisoner."
They crossed the dining-room and were in the girl's bedchamber.
Évariste felt upon his the ardent freshness of Élodie's lips. He pressed her in his arms; with head thrown back and swooning eyes, her hair flowing loose over her relaxed form, half fainting, she escaped his hold and ran to shoot the bolt....
The night was far advanced when the citoyenne Blaise opened the outer door of the flat for her lover and whispered to him in the darkness.
"Good-bye, sweetheart! it is the hour my father will be coming home. If you hear a noise on the stairs, go up quick to the higher floor and don't come down till all danger is over of your being seen. To have the street-door opened, give three raps on the concierge's window. Good-bye, my life, good-bye, my soul!"
When he found himself in the street, he saw the window of Élodie's chamber half unclose and a little hand pluck a red carnation, which fell at his feet like a drop of blood.