at this occasion stood alone. If she
let it slip by, she would have to wait through months upon months of
solitude and despair, languishing for his return--losing another whole
summer of her life.

Below, the door opened--Yann was coming out!

Suddenly resolute, she rushed downstairs, and tremblingly stood before
him.

"Monsieur Yann, I--I wish to speak to you, please."

"To me, Mademoiselle Gaud?" queried he, lowering his voice and snatching
off his hat.

He looked at her fiercely, with a hard expression in his flashing eyes,
and his head thrown back, seeming even to wonder if he ought to stop
for her at all. With one foot ready to start away, he stood straight up
against the wall, as if to be as far apart from her as possible, in the
narrow passage, where he felt imprisoned.

Paralyzed, she could remember nothing of what she had wished to say; she
had not thought he would try and pass on without listening to her. What
an affront!

"Does our house frighten you, Monsieur Yann?" she asked, in a dry, odd
tone--not at all the one she wished to use.

He turned his eyes away, looking outside; his cheeks blazed red, a rush
of blood burned all his face, and his quivering nostrils dilated with
every breath, keeping time with the heavings of his chest, like a young
bull's.

"The night of the ball," she tried to continue, "when we were together,
you bade me good-bye, not as a man speaks to an indifferent person.
Monsieur Yann, have you no memory? What have I done to vex you?"

The nasty western breeze blowing in from the street ruffled his hair
and the frills of Gaud's _coiffe_, and behind them a door was banged
furiously. The passage was not meet for talking of serious matters in.
After these first phrases, choking, Gaud remained speechless, feeling
her head spin, and without ideas. They still advanced towards the street
door; he seemed so anxious to get away, and she was so determined not to
be shaken off.

Outside the wind blew noisily and the sky was black. A sad livid light
fell upon their faces through the open door. And an opposite neighbour
looked at them: what could the pair be saying to one another in that
passage together, looking so troubled? What was wrong over at the
Mevel's?

"Nay, Mademoiselle Gaud," he answered at last, turning away with the
powerful grace of a young lion, "I've heard folks talk about us quite
enough already! Nay, Mademoiselle Gaud, for, you see, you are rich, and
we are not peop