Lissac had become very pale.  He tried to smile at Adrienne—­the heroic smile of a wounded man undergoing amputation—­and he whispered: 

“Don’t you know very well, madame, that you would not have taken two steps in the street, on my arm, before you would become a lost woman?”

“Well,” she said, “what of that, since it is they who are loved!—­”

“No, madame,” Guy replied, “I love you.  I may say so, because you are a virtuous woman, and I have no right to take you away, do you understand? because I love you.”

He, too, had summoned all his strength to impart to his confession, which he would have expressed with ardor, the cold tone of a phrase.

But that was enough.  Adrienne recoiled before this avowal.

He loved her.  He told her so!

It is true, she could not leave the mansion on his arm.

She rested her glance on Lissac and extended her hand to him, saying, as she felt suddenly recalled to herself: 

“You are an honest man!”

“According to my moods,” said Guy, with a sad smile.

The door of the little salon opened, and Ramel entered.

“I have called in a doctor,” he said.

“For me?” asked Adrienne.  “Thanks!  I am quite strong!”

Then boldly going to Ramel: 

“Will you have the goodness to take me to Rue de la Chaussee-d’Antin, Monsieur Ramel?”

“Why?”

“Because I will not remain one hour longer in a house where my husband has the right to receive his mistress!—­Monsieur de Lissac refuses to accompany me.  Your arm, Ramel!”

“Madame,” Ramel answered gently, “I knew that Monsieur de Lissac was a man of intelligence.  It seems to me that he is a man of heart.  You should remain here for your own sake, for your name’s sake, for your husband’s.  It is your duty.  As to Mademoiselle Kayser, you can return to the salons, for she has just left with Monsieur de Rosas.”

Adrienne remained for a moment with her sad eyes fixed on Ramel; then shaking her head: 

“You knew it also?  Everybody knew it then, except me?”

“Well!” said Ramel, a good-natured smile playing in his white mustache, “now it is necessary to forget.”

“Never!” replied Adrienne.

Then proudly drawing herself up, she took Denis’s arm and without even glancing in her mirror, she went off toward the salons.

“Your bouquet, madame,” said Lissac, who was still pale and his voice trembled.

“True!” said Adrienne.

She fastened her bouquet of drooping roses to her corsage and without daring to look at Lissac again, she re-entered, leaning on Ramel’s arm.

Left alone in the salon, Guy remained a moment to shake his head.

“Poor, dear creature!” he said.  “If I had been young enough not to understand the position in which her madness placed me, or base enough to profit by it, what a pretty little preface to a great folly she was about to commit this evening!  Well! this attack of morality will perhaps count in my favor some day.”