Hortense felt that she had the whip hand of him; and, profiting by his confusion, she said, suddenly, in a commanding and threatening tone:
"Where is the thing? You must give it back to me. I insist upon it."
Pancaldi gave way to a moment of despair. He folded his hands and mumbled a few words of entreaty. Then, defeated and suddenly resigned, he said, more distinctly:
"You insist?..."
"I do. You must give it to me."
"Yes, yes, I must ... I agree."
"Speak!" she ordered, more harshly still.
"Speak, no, but write: I will write my secret.... And that will be the end of me."
He turned to his desk and feverishly wrote a few lines on a sheet of paper, which he put into an envelope and sealed it:
"See," he said, "here's my secret.... It was my whole life...."