And, throwing Jacques’s letter at M. Folgat’s feet, she went to the door.
“Madam,” said M. Folgat once more,—“madam!”
She did not even condescend to turn round: she disappeared, leaving him standing in the middle of the room, so overcome with amazement, that he could not collect his thoughts. Fortunately Dr. Seignebos came in.
“Upon my word!” he said, “I never thought the countess would take my treachery so coolly. When she came out from you just now, she asked me, in the same tone as every day, how I had found her husband, and what was to be done. I told her”—
But the rest of the sentence remained unspoken: the doctor had become aware of M. Folgat’s utter consternation.
“Why, what on earth is the matter?” he asked.
The young advocate looked at him with an utterly bewildered air.
“This is the matter: I ask myself whether I am awake or dreaming. This is the matter: that, if this woman is guilty, she possesses an audacity beyond all belief.”
“How, if? Have you changed your mind about her guilt?”
M. Folgat looked altogether disheartened.