What was this bad Frenchwoman
going to say next?
"Hush," whispered Rose, for so much noise hurt her.
The cold influence of the corpse once more overcame them, and they all
paused together. They were embarrassed; the dead woman was before them
again; a dull thread of coming ill possessed them. On the boulevard the
cry was passing, hoarse and wild:
"A BERLIN! A BERLIN! A BERLIN!"
Presently, when they were making up their minds to go, a voice was heard
calling from the passage:
"Rose! Rose!"
Gaga opened the door in astonishment and disappeared for a moment. When
she returned:
"My dear," she said, "it's Fauchery. He's out there at the end of the
corridor. He won't come any further, and he's beside himself because you
still stay near that body."
Mignon had at last succeeded in urging the journalist upstairs.
Lucy, who was still at the window, leaned out and caught sight of the
gentlemen out on the pavement. They were looking up, making energetic
signals to her. Mignon was shaking his fists in exasperation, and
Steiner, Fontan, Bordenave and the rest were stretching out their arms
with looks of anxious reproach, while Daguenet simply stood smoking a
cigar with his hands behind his back, so as not to compromise himself.
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