The man did not move.
Did he see? Did he understand? It was as though the man's eyes were gazing into space and that he thought himself possessed by an hallucination, rather than looking upon a real image.
One more step. . . .
"He will defend himself," thought Lupin, "he is bound to defend himself."
And Lupin thrust out his arms.
The man did not make a movement. He did not retreat; his eyelids did not blink.
The contact took place.
And it was Lupin, scared and bewildered, who lost his head. He knocked the man back upon his bed, stretched him at full length, rolled him in the sheets, bound him in the blankets and held him under his knee, like a prey . . . whereas the man had not made the slightest movement of resistance.
"Ah!" shouted Lupin, drunk with delight and satisfied hatred. "At last I have crushed you, you odious brute! At last I am the master!"
He heard a noise outside, in the Rue Delaizement; men knocking at the gate. He ran to the window and cried: