with a tall, mournful flame in the midst of the deep silence.  As Quenu took off his shoes, and put them down in a corner, the time-piece struck half past one with such a clear, ringing sound that he turned in alarm, almost frightened to move, and gazing with an expression of angry reproach at the shining gilded Gutenberg standing there, with his finger on a book.  Lisa’s head was buried in her pillow, and Quenu could only see her back; but he divined that she was merely feigning sleep, and her conduct in turning her back upon him was so instinct with reproach that he felt sorely ill at ease.  At last he slipped beneath the bed-clothes, blew out the candle, and lay perfectly still.  He could have sworn that his wife was awake, though she did not speak to him; and presently he fell asleep, feeling intensely miserable, and lacking the courage to say good night.

He slept till late, and when he awoke he found himself sprawling in the middle of the bed with the eider-down quilt up to his chin, whilst Lisa sat in front of the secretaire, arranging some papers.  His slumber had been so heavy that he had not heard her rise.  However, he now took courage, and spoke to her from the depths of the alcove:  “Why didn’t you wake me?  What are you doing there?”

“I’m sorting the papers in these drawers,” she replied in her usual tone of voice.

Quenu felt relieved.  But Lisa added:  “One never knows what may happen.  If the police were to come—­”

“What! the police?”

“Yes, indeed, the police; for you’re mixing yourself up with politics now.”

At this Quenu sat up in bed, quite dazed and confounded by such a violent and unexpected attack.

“I mix myself up with politics!  I mix myself up with politics!” he repeated.  “It’s no concern of the police.  I’ve nothing to do with any compromising matters.”

“No,” replied Lisa, shrugging her shoulders; “you merely talk about shooting everybody.”

“I!  I!”

“Yes.  And you bawl it out in a public-house!  Mademoiselle Saget heard you.  All the neighbourhood knows by this time that you are a Red Republican!”

Quenu fell back in bed again.  He was not perfectly awake as yet.  Lisa’s words resounded in his ears as though he already heard the heavy tramp of gendarmes at the bedroom door.  He looked at her as she sat there, with her hair already arranged, her figure tightly imprisoned in her stays, her whole appearance the same as it was on any other morning; and he felt more astonished than ever that she should be so neat and prim under such extraordinary circumstances.

“I leave you absolutely free, you know,” she continued, as she went on arranging the papers.  “I don’t want to wear the breeches, as the saying goes.  You are the master, and you are at liberty to endanger your position, compromise our credit, and ruin our business.”

Then, as Quenu tried to protest, she silenced him with a gesture.  “No, no; don’t say anything,” she continued.  “This is no quarrel, and I am not even asking an explanation from you.  But if you had consulted me, and we had talked the matter over together, I might have intervened.  Ah! it’s a great mistake to imagine that women understand nothing about politics.  Shall I tell you what my politics are?”