"Don't laugh! You must not laugh. Go back and get what you need for a journey. Tell Madame Potier I am taking you to Belgium. Back to your husband! ... your place is where he is! You shall not stay here ... you must not, I forbid you!..."
She ceased to laugh and pulled her hands away from his. Her answer came: an inflexible utterance to be breathed so softly:
"I remain here, Monsieur, until my husband comes!"
He panted the old prayer:
"Juliette, for the love of God...! You don't know what terrible danger you are risking!..."
The reply fanned past his cheek like the velvety wing of some great night moth:
"Monsieur, I remain here, until the arrival of M. Charles Tessier. Although you will do wisely to depart while you may—unseen!"
He said between his gritted teeth, while the pounding of his heart choked him:
"I shall stay here! ... I decline to be sent away!..."
She seemed to cogitate. Then came the mere breath of an utterance.