She crossed the Palais-Royal Square, gained the Avenue de l'Opéra, all the time touching the gas lamps, trees and columns. There, she recommenced her maneuver with this variation: she touched each shop-door with her knee. One of them was opened; she waited, as before a precipice, gazing at the curtains of red plush of a milliner of ill-repute; she had such an unfortunate air that Entragues, with a discreet bow, accosted her:
"You seem troubled, Madame, can I be of any service?"
She looked at him, and not observing anything unpleasant in his tone or gestures, replied:
"Yes, you can save me, if you have any magnetism. Call a carriage, get in with me and take me back. I live at the Avenue de Clichy and am going there on foot without being able ... without being able to do otherwise.... You have seen me? As soon as I go out by myself, I walk, I walk ... and when I return, I faint with fatigue and shame."
Entragues had already, with his lifted cane, signaled a coachman, who drew near the pavement.
"You are merely a little nervous and need rest. Come, here is the carriage."
He took her arm; she resisted, saying, for the abyss had closed:
"Always this, nothing but this, the last one!"
She had set off again, turning her head supplicatingly, but without will-power.
"Well!" Entragues thought, "if I use force, the passerby will be attracted. As for magnetism, I can't see myself making passes at four o'clock in the afternoon, here in the Avenue de l'Opéra. It requires a severe glance and a commanding voice. What an odd adventure and what a queer hysterical person!"