72
Almost immediately Madame des Aubels bethought herself that she still had some calls to pay, and that she must make her escape quickly, for love had not made her lose all sense of her own importance. But she had barely crossed the landing with Maurice when they heard a hoarse cry and saw Monsieur Sariette plunge madly downstairs, exclaiming as he went:
“Stop it, stop it; I saw it fly away! It escaped from the shelf by itself. It crossed the room . . . there it is—there! It’s going downstairs. Stop it! It has gone out of the door on the ground floor!”
“What?” asked Maurice.
Monsieur Sariette looked out of the landing window, murmuring horror-struck:
“It’s crossing the garden! It’s going into the summer-house. Stop it, stop it!”
“But what is it?” repeated Maurice—“in God’s name, what is it?”
“My Flavius Josephus,” exclaimed Monsieur Sariette. “Stop it!”
And he fell down unconscious.
“You see he is quite mad,” said Maurice to Madame des Aubels, as he lifted up the unfortunate librarian.
Gilberte, a little pale, said she also thought she had seen something in the direction indicated by the unhappy man, something flying.
