She did not care much either for artists or actresses, but made some exceptions, and when Melosan, Jane Zild's secretary, offered her a considerable sum for a room on the first floor, she immediately accepted.
The bells of Notre-Dame struck one o'clock, when a carriage, which contained Jane and her companion, stopped in front of Madame Vollard's house.
In spite of the late hour, the landlady hurried to the street door to greet the young girl. When she saw the latter's disordered toilet, she uttered a cry of horror. Jane had thrown off the cloak, and the burned dress with the withered and crushed roses could be seen.
"What is the matter, my dear?" asked the worthy lady.
"Oh, nothing," replied Jane; "I am only tired."
"Then you tell me, at least, what has occurred," said Madame Vollard, turning to Melosan.
"Later on, later on. The young lady is excited and needs rest."
"Oh, I will give her some drops," said the good-hearted lady, "I—"
"Good-night, Madame Vollard," said the secretary, and taking a light from the lady's hands, he hurried up the stairs with Jane.