The muscles of Mademoiselle's face twitched as with a sudden pain. A look of terror came into her bright eyes. She rested her hand on the chair beside her, as if she were faint.
"Take off your cloak," said Madame, "and Jacques will tell Monsieur that you are here."
Jacques rose, but Mademoiselle stopped him. "No," she said; "I will go to him, if I may. I have a message for him."
Mademoiselle Elise went up. Raoul opened the door.
"Did you wonder what had become of me?" he stammered. The unexpectedness of her coming unnerved him. He forgot his planned excuse.
"I thought you were at Rouen," she said mechanically, and without raising her eyes, "or I should not have come. I have a message for you."
"You are wet," he said. "Give me your cloak, and rest until Madame Martin has dried it."
He gave the cloak to Julie and closed the door.
The small room was lighted by a single candle. Opposite the door the wall was covered with books from floor to ceiling. In a corner an open bureau was strewed with papers. The violin was laid carelessly on an old harpsichord.
Mademoiselle saw these things as she walked over and stood by the fireplace. Her dark hair, disordered by the hood of the cloak, hung loosely over her forehead and heightened the worn expression on her white face. She drew back her black dress slightly and rested one foot on the edge of the fender, and watched the steam that rose from the damp shoe.