illon, and
walked on with the absent-minded air of a woman smelling of a bouquet,
now and then darting a little vague glance on one side or the other--the
glance of a frightened child.

When they reached Rue Lamartine, opposite the Passage des Deux-Soeurs,
they turned. Germinie had barely time to throw herself in at a hall
door. They passed without seeing her. The little one was very serious
and walked slowly. Jupillon was talking into her ear. They stopped for a
moment; Jupillon gesticulated earnestly; the girl stared fixedly at the
pavement. Germinie thought they were about to part; but they resumed
their walk together and made four or five turns, passing back and forth
by the end of the passage. At last they turned in; Germinie darted from
her hiding-place and rushed after them. From the gateway of the passage
she saw the skirt of a dress disappear through the door of a small
furnished lodging-house, beside a wine shop. She ran to the door, looked
into the hall and could see nothing. Thereupon all her blood rushed to
her head, with one thought, a single thought that her lips kept
repeating like an idiot: "Vitriol! vitriol! vitriol!" And as her
thoughts were instantly transformed into the act of which she thought,
and her delirium transported her abruptly to the crime she contemplated,
she said to herself that she would go up the stairs with the bottle well
hidden under her shawl; she would knock at the door very loud and
continuously. He would come at last and would open the door a crack.
She would say nothing to him, not her name even. She would go in without
heeding him. She was strong enough to kill him! and she would go to the
bed, to _her_! She would take her by the arm and say: "Yes it's me--this
is for your life!" And over her face, her throat, her skin, over
everything about her that was youthful and attractive and that invited
love, Germinie watched the vitriol sear and seam and burn and hiss,
transforming her into a horrible object that filled Germinie's heart to
overflowing with joy! The bottle was empty, and she laughed! And, in her
frightful dream, her body also dreaming, her feet began to move. She
walked unconsciously down the passage, into the street and to a grocer's
shop. Ten minutes she stood motionless at the counter, with eyes that
did not see, the vacant, wandering eyes of one who has murder in his
heart.

"Well, well, what do you want?" said the grocer's wife testily, almost
frightened by the