She closed the shutters and shut the window.
A few minutes passed and the church clock struck. She counted the strokes—eleven. At the eleventh stroke she went to the door of the lodge, opened it, and listened. There came a low whistle. She answered it by stamping on the tiles of the hall.
Dominique came hurrying to her. They went into the bedroom.
On the instant, without waiting for her to ask the question, he said: “I’ve done it.”
“Oh,” she said in a shaky voice; and she was so upset that she tottered and sank into a chair.
They stared at one another in silence.
Then Dominique uttered: “She felt nothing.”
“She felt nothing?” she repeated.
“No. She was asleep.”
“Are you quite sure that—that——”