“She’s mad, she’s mad!” he was snarling. “She’s run away! The servant didn’t know where to. Where is she, where is she?”
“She’s here,” said Louise, calmly.
“She’s resting. But keep calm, Eduard, and don’t let them hear you downstairs. There’s a dinner-party.”
“I don’t care! I insist....”
“I insist that you keep quiet and don’t make a scene....”
“Where is Emilie?”
“If you’re quiet, you can speak to her. If you shout like that, so that you can be heard downstairs, I’ll send a message to Papa.”
Emilie, on tenterhooks, quivering in every nerve, stood up and opened the door:
“I am here,” she said.