“‘We’ll burn them,’ she said.
“I started with surprise.
“‘You cannot think of it,’ I cried, ‘here, and at this hour. The fire would certainly be seen.’
“‘What? Are you afraid? However, we can go into the wood. Come, give me some matches.’
“I felt in my pockets; but I had none.
“‘I have no matches,’ I said.
“‘Oh, come!—you who smoke all day long,—you who, even in my presence, could never give up your cigars.’
“‘I left my match-box, yesterday, at M. de Chandore’s.’
“She stamped her foot vehemently.
“‘Since that is so, I’ll go in and get some.’