wiz you? How shall I stay alone? But how can I go? I know so few. I say, 'Lend me money so zat I go home,' and zey say to me, 'Mon Dieu, M. Laroche, how do you pay zis money? To-morrow? Next year?' I do not know. I cannot tell zem....
" 'And if I go, monsieur, I am well? I need fear no more ze heart?' 'Ah, monsieur, who can tell? Maybe yes, maybe no. It is to guard well against ze worry, ze alarrm, ze queeck starrt—vous savez? Ten years, five years, one year—I cannot tell, monsieur.'
"C'est terrible, n'est-ce pas, Mlle. Sabine? Vous partez demain. You are so soon gone, and I stay here! And I am twelve years away from home—and I have ze weak heart. Vous me dites 'au revoir,' mademoiselle—moi, je vous dis 'adieu.' "
The woman crouching on the stair bit her lip and pressed her finger-nails into her hands to keep back the sobs that
