“Give them to me!” she cried fiercely; but as soon as she had them in her hands her mood appeared to alter—she stood silent for a moment, and then pressed the garment back upon the Doctor. “Give it to Aline,” she said—“poor girl.”
“Nonsense!” said the Doctor. “Aline does not know what she is about. Aline is beside herself with terror; and at any rate, she is a peasant. Now I am really concerned at this exposure for a person of your housekeeping habits; my solicitude and your fantastic modesty both point to the same remedy—the pantaloons.” He held them ready.
“It is impossible. You do not understand,” she said with dignity.
By this time rescue was at hand. It had been found impracticable to enter by the street, for the gate was blocked with masonry, and the nodding ruin still threatened further avalanches. But between the Doctor’s garden and the one on the right hand there was that very picturesque contrivance—a common well; the door on the Desprez’ side had chanced to be unbolted, and now, through the arched aperture a man’s bearded face and an arm supporting a lantern were introduced into the world of windy darkness, where Anastasie concealed her woes. The light struck here and there among the tossing apple boughs, it glinted on the grass; but the lantern and the glowing face became the centre of the world. Anastasie crouched back from the intrusion.
“This way!” shouted the man. “Are you all safe?” Aline, still screaming, ran to the new comer, and was presently hauled head-foremost through the wall.
“Now, Anastasie, come on; it is your turn,” said the husband.
“I cannot,” she replied.
“Are we all to die of exposure, madame?” thundered Doctor Desprez.
“You can go!” she cried. “Oh, go, go away! I can stay here; I am quite warm.”
The Doctor took her by the shoulders with an oath.