She dragged him by main force a few paces back, toward an unoccupied corner of the room. With deathly cheeks and wild eyes she raised herself on tiptoe, and put her lips to her husband’s ear. At that instant Trudaine called to her:
“Rose, if you speak I am lost!”
She stopped at the sound of his voice, dropped her hold on her husband’s arm, and faced her brother, shuddering.
“Rose,” he continued, “you have promised, and your promise is sacred. If you prize your honor, if you love me, come here—come here, and be silent.”
He held out his hand. She ran to him; and, laying her head on his bosom, burst into a passion of tears.
Danville turned uneasily toward the police agents. “Remove your prisoner,” he said. “You have done your duty here.”
“Only half of it,” retorted Lomaque, eying him attentively. “Rose Danville—”
“My wife!” exclaimed the other. “What about my wife?”
“Rose Danville,” continued Lomaque, impassibly, “you are included in the arrest of Louis Trudaine.”
Rose raised her head quickly from her brother’s breast. His firmness had deserted him—he was trembling. She heard him whispering to himself, “Rose, too! Oh, my God! I was not prepared for that.” She heard these words, and dashed the tears from her eyes, and kissed him, saying: