"Monsieur Chevalier," asked Constantin Marc in the quietest of tones,
"does it not seem to you natural to be a murderer, and do you not think
that it is merely the fear of being killed that prevents us from
killing?"

Chevalier replied in deep, pensive tones:

"Most certainly not! It would not be the fear of being killed that would
prevent me from killing. I have no fear of death. But I feel a respect
for the life of others. I am humane in spite of myself. I have for some
time past been seriously considering the question which you have just
asked me, Monsieur Constantin Marc. I have pondered over it day and
night, and I know now that I could not kill any one.'"

At this, Nanteuil, filled with joy, cast upon him a look of contempt.
She feared him no longer, and she could not forgive him for having
alarmed her.

She rose.

"Good evening; I have a headache. Good-bye till to-morrow, Monsieur
Constantin Marc." And she went out briskly.

Chevalier ran after her down the corridor, descended the stage staircase
behind her, and rejoined her by the stage doorkeeper's box.

"Félicie, come and dine with me to-night at our cabaret. I should be so
glad if you would! Will you?"