She walked slowly up to him, looking as though she would plunge a knife into his heart. “I wish Jean Jacques had opened the gates,” she said. “It would have saved the hangman trouble.”
Then suddenly, and with a cry, she raised her hand and struck him full in the face with her fist. At that instant came a tap at the door of the other room, and the Clerk of the Court appeared. He saw the blow, and drew back with an exclamation.
Carmen turned to him. “Farewell has been said, M’sieu’ Fille,” she remarked in a voice sombre with rage and despair, and she went to the door leading to the street.
Masson had winced at the blow, but he remained silent. He knew not what to say or do.
M. Fille hastily followed Carmen to the door. “You are going home, dear madame? Permit me to accompany you,” he said gently. “I have to do business with Jean Jacques.”
A hand upon his chest, she pushed him back. “Where I go I’m going alone,” she said. Opening the door she went out, but turning back again she gave George Masson a look that he never forgot. Then the door closed.
“Grace of God, she is not going home!” brokenly murmured the Clerk of the Court.
With a groan the master-carpenter started forward towards the door, but M. Fille stepped between, laid a hand on his arm, and stopped him.