in a manner which seemed foreign to her. It was two
o'clock in the morning before the crowd left. I alone
remained in the parlor. Near the door, Malterre stood
with his back to me, talking to Jesselin who was putting on his overcoat in the vestibule. And I saw Juliette, her elbows resting on the piano, looking fixedly at me. A gleam of fierce passion flashed in her eyes,
suddenly turned dark, almost terrible, marking them
as with a novel flame. The wrinkle on her forehead
deepened, her nostrils quivered; a strange expression
of something unchaste wandered on her lips. I leaped
toward her. My knees sought her own, my body
cleaved to hers, my mouth pressed against her own, I
clasped her in a furious embrace.
She abandoned herself to me entirely and in a very low, choking voice:
"Come tomorrow!" she said.
