"What are you doing, Monsieur?" And, standing up against the wall, she compelled him to remain perfectly quiet under the glance of her large blue eyes glowing with anger.
"Listen to me! I love you!"
She broke into a laugh, a shrill, discouraging laugh. Deslauriers felt himself suffocating with anger. He restrained his feelings, and, with the look of a vanquished person imploring mercy:
"Ha! you are wrong! As for me, I would not go like him."
"Of whom, pray, are you talking?"
"Of Frederick."
"Ah! Monsieur Moreau troubles me little. I told you that!"
"Oh! forgive me! forgive me!" Then, drawling his words, in a sarcastic tone:
"I even imagined that you were sufficiently interested in him personally to learn with pleasure——"
She became quite pale. The ex-law-clerk added: