He sprang to the
window, but Mademoiselle de Verneuil was gone. She heard the steps of
a man behind her, which she supposed to be those of the marquis, and,
to escape him, she knew no obstacles; she would have scaled walls and
flown through air; she would have found and followed a path to hell
sooner than have seen again, in flaming letters on the forehead of
that man, "I despise you,"--words which an inward voice sounded in her
soul with the noise of a trumpet.
After walking a short distance without knowing where she went, she
stopped, conscious of a damp exhalation. Alarmed by the sound of
voices, she went down some steps which led into a cellar. As she
reached the last of them, she stopped to listen and discover the
direction her pursuers might take. Above the sounds from the outside,
which were somewhat loud, she could hear within the lugubrious moans
of a human being, which added to her terror. Rays of light coming down
the steps made her fear that this retreat was only too well known to
her enemies, and, to escape them, she summoned fresh energy. Some
moments later, after recovering her composure of mind, it was
difficult for her to conceive by what means she had been able to climb
a little wall, in a recess of which she was now hidden. She took no
notice at first of the cramped position in which she was, but before
long the pain of it became intolerable, for she was bending double
under the arched opening of a vault, like the crouching Venus which
ignorant persons attempt to squeeze into too narrow a niche.
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