felt a real lassitude stealing over her, she
looked round for the eau-de-Cologne she wanted: Thomery's arsenal did
not contain any. There was only one sprayer and that Sonia Danidoff held
in her hand.

She sprinkled herself a second time, hoping that the perfume would
revive her; but, on the contrary, her fatigue increased: her eyes closed
for a moment.... When she opened them again the room was in darkness.

Sonia tried to rise from the divan. An overpowering torpor, though not
disagreeable, was benumbing her whole body, and before her eyes bright
lights seemed to float, succeeded by thick darkness. Her head turned
round and round ... she strove to cry out, but her voice stuck in her
throat: her body jerked with a feeble convulsive movement. She heard
indistinctly an unknown voice murmuring:

"Let yourself go!... Sleep!... Have no fear!"

Sonia Danidoff essayed a momentary resistance, then she succumbed and
lost all consciousness of her surroundings....

Absolute silence reigned in the boudoir Thomery had reserved for the
sole use of his beautiful betrothed, when he arrived to lead her to the
cotillion. He found the door shut. He knocked discreetly. There was no
reply. Repeated knocking evoked no audible answer. Thomery opened the
door. The room was in total darkness. He switched on the electric light:
the boudoir was brilliantly illuminated.... The sight that met his
startled eyes was so moving that he grew livid with horror and rushed to
the side of his betrothed.

Sonia Danidoff was extended on the divan motionless and pale as death. A
hoarse and laboured breath came from her heaving bosom at irregular
intervals: on the exquisite skin of neck and breast were spattered
streaks of blood!

Beside himself, Thomery rushed away in search of help.

It was at this terrible crisis that the fiance of Sonia Danidoff had
attracted the attention of Charley, whose friend, the young engineer
Andral, was the protege of the man whose awful pallor and distracted air
spelt tragedy.

Thomery, his countenance ravaged by intense emotion, his hands clenched,
shaken by nervous tremors, hastened, with unsteady steps, in the
direction of the gallery leading to the anteroom.

Suddenly a woman's shrieks broke in on the charming harmonies of a slow
waltz, which the orchestra was rendering at the moment.... There was an
irresistible rush towards the boudoir, where two half-fainting women had
collapsed on chairs, and the famous surge