She straightened up, chilled with horror. She spoke aloud in the silence.
"Dead! Here he is dead now!"
A terror held her rigid above the corpse. She heard his mother passing along the corridor! Other noises arose,—steps, voices, preparations for an evening's entertainment. They might call her, come to look for her at any moment. And here was this dead body of her lover, whom she had killed and who had fallen back upon her shoulders, with the crushing weight of their sin.
Then, crazed by the clamor in her brain, she began walking back and forth. She sought a hole into which to cast this body that was threatening her future. She looked under all the furniture, in the corners, trembling with an enraged realization of her impotence. No, there was no hole, the alcove was not deep enough, the wardrobes were too narrow, the whole room refused its aid. And it was in this room that they had hidden their kisses. He used to enter with his light, cat-like step, and went away as softly. Never should she have imagined that he could become so heavy.
She still roved about the room like a trapped animal. Suddenly, she had an inspiration. Suppose she should throw the body out of the window? But it would be found, and it would be easy to guess where it had come from.
Meanwhile, she had raised the curtain to look out into the street; and there, opposite, was the imbecile who played the flute, leaning out of his window with his tame-dog expression. She well knew his sallow face, unceasingly turned toward her and wearying her with its avowal of timid tenderness. The sight of Julien, so humble and so loving, stopped her short. A smile flitted across her pale face. Here was her salvation! The imbecile opposite loved her with the devotion of a dog who would obey her even to the commission of a crime. Besides she would reward him with all her heart, with all her body. She had not loved him because he was too gentle; but she would love him, she would buy him with the gift of her body, if he would help her conceal her crime.
Then, quickly, she took up the body of Colombel as if it were a bundle of linen, and threw it on the bed. Immediately opening the window, she threw kisses to Julien.
IV
Julien walked as in a nightmare. When he recognized Colombel on the bed, he was not astonished,—it seemed quite natural. Yes, no one but Colombel could be in that alcove, his temple indented, his limbs spread out in an attitude of revolting lewdness.
Meanwhile, Therese was speaking to him. He did not hear at first; the words flowed through his stupor with a confused sound. Then, he understood that she was giving him orders, and he listened. Now, he must not leave the room; he must remain until midnight,—until the house grew dark and quiet. The party that the marquis was giving would prevent their doing anything sooner. But, in a way, it acted in their favor, for it so occupied everybody's attention that no one would think of coming up to the young girl's room. At the proper time, Julien was to take the body on his back, carry it down and throw it into the Chanteclair, at the bottom of Beau-Soleil Street Therese explained the whole plan.