ut her mistress, seeing her still standing and evidently
uneasy, made her a sign of distress.

"This is called a day, Francine," she said; "but I have aged ten years
in it."

The next morning, as soon as she had risen, Corentin came to see her and
she admitted him.

"Francine," she exclaimed, "my degradation is great indeed, for the
thought of that man is not disagreeable to me."

Still, when she saw him, she felt once more, for the hundredth time, the
instinctive repulsion which two years' intercourse had increased rather
than lessened.

"Well," he said, smiling, "I felt certain you were succeeding. Was I
mistaken? did you get hold of the wrong man?"

"Corentin," she replied, with a dull look of pain, "never mention that
affair to me unless I speak of it myself."

He walked up and down the room casting oblique glances at her,
endeavoring to guess the secret thoughts of the singular woman whose
mere glance had the power of discomfiting at times the cleverest men.

"I foresaw this check," he replied, after a moment's silence. "If you
would be willing to establish your headquarters in this town, I have
already found a suitable place for you. We are in the very centre of
Chouannerie. Will you stay here?"

She answered with an affirmative sign, which enabled Corentin to make
conjectures, partly correct, as to the events of the preceding evening.

"I can hire a house for you, a bit of national property still unsold.
They are behind the age in these parts. No one has dared buy the old
barrack because it belonged to an _emigre_ who was thought to be harsh.
It is close to the church of Saint Leonard; and on my word of honor
the view from it is delightful. Something can really be made of the old
place; will you try it?"

"Yes, at once," she cried.

"I want a few hours to have it cleaned and put in order for you, so that
you may like it."

"What matter?" she said. "I could live in a cloister or a prison without
caring. However, see that everything is in order before night, so that
I may sleep there in perfect solitude. Go, leave me; your presence is
intolerable. I wish to be alone with Francine; she is better for me than
my own company, perhaps. Adieu; go--go, I say."

These words, said volubly with a mingling of coquetry, despotism, and
passion, showed she had entirely recovered her self-possession. Sleep
had no doubt classified the impressions of the preceding day, and
reflection had determined her on vengeanc