MME. CATHERINE. Are you afraid?
MAURICE. Yes, I am afraid for myself, and also for some others.
MME. CATHERINE. Well, go then.
MAURICE. She seemed to suck herself out through the door, and in her wake rose a little whirlwind that dragged me along—Yes, you may laugh, but can't you see that the palm over there on the buffet is still shaking? She's the very devil of a woman!
MME. CATHERINE. Oh, get out of here, man, before you lose all your reason.
MAURICE. I want to go, but I cannot—Do you believe in fate,
Madame Catherine?
MME. CATHERINE. No, I believe in a good God, who protects us against evil powers if we ask Him in the right way.
MAURICE. So there are evil powers after all! I think I can hear them in the hallway now.
MME. CATHERINE. Yes, her clothes rustle as when the clerk tears off a piece of linen for you. Get away now—through the kitchen.
(MAURICE rushes toward the kitchen door, where he bumps into
EMILE.)