ce."

It was certainly the only thing I could do, so I picked up her dress
from the floor, put it over her head, and began to fasten it as best I
could. She helped me, crying all the time, hurrying and making all sorts
of mistakes and unable to find either buttonholes or laces, while Mme.
Kergaran stood by motionless, with the candle in her hand, looking at us
with the severity of a judge.

As soon as Emma was dressed, without even stopping to button her boots,
she rushed past the landlady and ran down stairs. I followed her in my
slippers and half undressed, and kept repeating: "Mademoiselle!
Mademoiselle!"

I felt that I ought to say something to her, but I could not find
anything. I overtook her just by the street-door, and tried to take her
into my arms, but she pushed me violently away, saying in a low, nervous
voice:

"Leave me alone, leave me alone!" and so ran out into the street,
closing the door behind her.

When I went upstairs again I found that Mme. Kergaran was waiting on the
first landing, and I went up slowly, expecting, and ready for, anything.

Her door was open, and she called me in, saying in a severe voice:

"I want to speak to you, M. Kervelen."

I went in, with my head bent. She put her candle on the mantelpiece, and
then, folding her arms over her expansive bosom, which a fine white
dressing-jacket hardly covered, she said:

"So, Monsieur Kervelen, you think my house is a house of ill-fame?"

I was not at all proud. I murmured:

"Oh, dear, no! But, Mme. Kergaran, you must not be angry; you know what
young men are."

"I know," was her answer, "that I will not have such creatures here, so
you will understand that. I expect to have my house respected, and I
will not have it lose its reputation, you understand me? I know...."

She went on thus for at least twenty minutes, overwhelming me with the
good name of her house, with reasons for her indignation, and loading me
with severe reproofs. I went to bed crestfallen, and resolved never
again to try such an experiment, so long, at least, as I continued to be
a lodger of Mme. Kergaran.

THE HORLA, OR MODERN GHOSTS

_May 8._ What a beautiful day! I have spent all the morning lying in the
grass in front of my house, under the enormous plantain tree which
covers it, and shades and shelters the whole of it. I like this part of
the country and I am fond of living here because I am attached to it by
deep roots, profound and delicate