"What is it?" asked Véronique, roused from her stupor.

"Don't you hear?"

"What?"

"A ring at the bell below. They must be bringing your luggage."

She sprang to her feet.

"But what am I to say? How can I explain? . . . If I accuse that boy . . ."

"Not a word, please. Let me speak to them."

"You're very weak, my poor Honorine."

"No, no, I'm feeling better."

Véronique went downstairs, crossed a broad entrance-hall paved with black and white flags and drew the bolts of a great door.