"But I did—He is waiting for me to tell him to come in. Of course I didn't speak about the fifty thousand francs—"
Renée, who was quite pale, had drawn herself up as if she had been struck with a whip. A great pride again rose to her heart. That creaking of boots, which she heard growing louder in the next room, exasperated her:
"I am going," she said curtly. "Come and open the door for me."
Madame Sidonie tried to smile.
"Don't be childish," she said. "I can't be left with that fellow on my hands, since I have told him you are here—You really compromise me—"
But the young woman had already descended the little staircase. She repeated, in front of the closed shop door:
"Open it, open it."
When the lace-dealer withdrew the brass knob, she had the habit of putting it in her pocket. She wished to continue parleying. Finally seized with anger herself, and displaying in the depths of her grey eyes the tart acridity of her nature, she cried: "But come, what shall I say to the man?"
"That I'm not for sale," replied Renée, who already had one foot on the side-walk.
And it seemed to her that she could hear Madame Sidonie muttering as she banged the door: "Eh! get off, you jade! you shall pay me for this!"