“Come,” said Fortinbras with outstretched hand. But she shrank from him. “Come!” he commanded. “There’s no time to lose. We must get out of this.”
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To the Gare de Montparnasse. You must return at once to Chartres.”
“I will never enter the house of Aunt Clothilde again,” said Félise.
“But what has happened? My God! what has happened?” he asked, as they hurried down the stairs.
Breathlessly, brokenly, she told him. In the courtyard he paused, put his hand to his head.
“But what can I do with you? My God! what can I do with you in this dreadful city?”
“Isn’t there a hotel in Paris?” she asked, coldly.
He laughed in a mirthless way. “There are many. There are the Ritz and the Meurice and the Elysée Palace. Yes—there are hotels enough!”
“I have plenty of money,” she said.