He remained seated; he watched her. She already treated him like a lover. With raised arms, she dressed her hair. He watched her with a thrill, so desirable she appeared with her back uncovered, lazily moving her delicate elbows and her tapering hands. Was she displaying her seductions, showing him the lover he was to possess, in order to make him brave?
She had just put on her slippers, when a step was heard in the corridor.
"Hide in the alcove," she said, in a low voice.
And, with a quick movement, she threw upon the stiffened body of Colombel all the linen that she had taken off,—a linen still warm with the perfume of her body.
It was Françoise who entered, saying,—
"They are waiting for you, Mademoiselle."
"I am coming, my good woman," peacefully answered Therese. "You can help me put on my dress."
Julien, through a slit in the curtain, could see them both, and he trembled at the audacity of the young girl. His teeth chattered so loudly that he grasped his jaw and held it in his hand. Beside him, under a chemise, he saw one of the icy feet of Colombel. If Françoise, the mother, should draw the curtain and strike against the bare foot of her child!
"Be careful," said Therese. "You are pulling off the flowers."
Her voice betrayed no emotion. She smiled like a girl pleased to go to a ball. The dress was of white silk, trimmed with sweet briar,—white flowers, with the hearts touched with red. And when she stood in the middle of the room, she was like a large bouquet of virginal whiteness. Her bare arms and her bare neck continued the whiteness of the silk.