"Elise, I saw some one climb out of your bedroom window," was the slow
reply.

"Oh, my God!" said the girl; "oh, my God!" and she stared blankly for a
moment at Madame Chalice. Then, trembling greatly, she reached to the
table for a cup of water.

Madame Chalice was at once by her side. "You are ill, poor girl," she
said anxiously, and put her arm around her.

Elise drew away.

"I will tell you all, madame, all; and you must believe it, for, as God
is my judge, it is the truth." Then she told the whole story, exactly
as it happened, save mention of the kisses that Valmond had given her.
Her eyes now and again filled with tears, and she tried, in her poor
untutored way, to set him right. She spoke for him altogether, not for
herself; and her listener saw that the bond which held the girl to the
man might be proclaimed in the streets, with no dishonour.

"That's the story, and that's the truth," said Elise at last. "He's a
gentleman, a great man, and I'm a poor girl, and there can be nothing
between us; but I'd die for him."

She no longer resented Madame Chalice's solicitude: she was passive, and
showed that she wished to be alone.

"You think there's going to be great trouble?" she asked, as Madame
Chalice made ready to go.