Mme. Gypsy was silently weighing the value of Fanferlot’s objections.  Finally she said: 

“I cannot remain here inactive, without attempting to contribute in some way to his safety.  Can you not understand that this floor burns my feet?”

Evidently, if she was not absolutely convinced, her resolution was shaken.  Fanferlot saw that he was gaining ground, and this certainty, making him more at ease, gave weight to his eloquence.

“You have it in your power, madame,” he said, “to render a great service to the man you love.”

“In what way, monsieur, in what way?”

“Obey him, my child,” said Fanferlot, in a paternal manner.

Mme. Gypsy evidently expected very different advice.

“Obey,” she murmured, “obey!”

“It is your duty,” said Fanferlot with grave dignity, “it is your sacred duty.”

She still hesitated; and he took from the table Prosper’s note, which she had laid there, then continued: 

“What!  M. Bertomy at the most trying moment, when he is about to be arrested, stops to point out your line of conduct; and you would render vain this wise precaution!  What does he say to you?  Let us read over this note, which is like the testament of his liberty.  He says, ’If you love me, I entreat you, obey.’  And you hesitate to obey.  Then you do not love him.  Can you not understand, unhappy child, that M. Bertomy has his reasons, terrible, imperious reasons, for your remaining in obscurity for the present?”

Fanferlot understood these reasons the moment he put his foot in the sumptuous apartment of the Rue Chaptal; and, if he did not expose them now, it was because he kept them as a good general keeps his reserve, for the purpose of deciding the victory.

Mme. Gypsy was intelligent enough to divine these reasons.

“Reasons for my hiding!  Prosper wishes, then, to keep everyone in ignorance of our intimacy.”

She remained thoughtful for a moment; then a ray of light seemed to cross her mind, and she cried: 

“Oh, I understand now!  Fool that I was for not seeing it before!  My presence here, where I have been for a year, would be an overwhelming charge against him.  An inventory of my possessions would be taken—­of my dresses, my laces, my jewels—­and my luxury would be brought against him as a crime.  He would be asked to tell where he obtained so much money to lavish all these elegancies on me.”

The detective bowed, and said: 

“That is true, madame.”

“Then I must fly, monsieur, at once.  Who knows that the police are not already warned, and may appear at any moment?”

“Oh,” said Fanferlot with easy assurance, “you have plenty of time; the police are not so very prompt.”

“No matter!”

And, leaving the detective alone in the parlor, Mme. Nina hastily ran into her bedroom, and calling her maid, her cook, and her little footman, ordered them to empty her bureau and chests of their contents, and assisted them to stuff her best clothing and jewels into her trunks.