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Updated: September 14, 2025
This indifference and frivolity chilled Helene, who had come to the house with passion consuming her. A longing to speak fell on her. At a venture she inquired: "Who will play the part of Chavigny?" "Why, Malignon, of course," answered Juliette, turning round with an air of astonishment. "He played Chavigny all last winter. It's a nuisance he can't come to the rehearsals.
Moreover, had it not been for that accursed pair, sent, doubtless, to spy on him by Madame Riennes, the accident would never have mattered; at least not much. He could have apologized suitably to Juliette, that is, if she wanted an apology, which she showed no signs of doing until she saw the two men. Indeed, at the moment, he thought that she seemed rather amused.
But as he cranked the engine and she felt the throb of movement, she sat up quickly. "Charles, what am I doing? Where are you taking me?" He came round to her and his hands clasped hers for a moment in a grip that was warm and close. He did not speak at once. Then, lightly, "I don't know what you'll do afterwards, ma Juliette," he said. "But you are coming with me now!"
"Ah! here's my little Lucien!" exclaimed Pauline as she dropped on her knees before the child, with a great rustling of skirts. "Now, now, leave him alone!" said Juliette. "Come here, Lucien; come and say good-day to this little lady." The boy came forward very sheepishly. He was no more than seven years old, fat and dumpy, and dressed as coquettishly as a doll.
Juliette reappeared on the morrow quite cured of her headache, and as gay and charming as ever. Possibly she had confided in her mamma, who had told her that after all things were not so terrible, even if they had been seen. At any rate, the equilibrium was restored.
At that moment the child Juliette opened her bedroom window, looking out into the darkness at this shadow scene. It was not Romeo but Death who called this little Juliette. A bullet hit her in the stomach, and twenty-four hours later she died in agony.
Henri and Juliette were pacing before her eyes beneath the light of the moon. They loved as husband and wife do when passion is once more awakened within them. To think of it a tiny girl, rosy and fat, its bare body flushed by the warm sunshine, while it strives to stammer words which its mother arrests with kisses!
It was an intimate sympathy that was growing up between them, springing from the depths of their beings, and becoming closer even when they were silent. Sometimes Juliette, rather ashamed of monopolizing all the talk, would cease her magpie chatter. "Dear me!" she would exclaim, "you are getting bored, aren't you? We are talking of matters which can have no possible interest for you."
In a few minutes they returned, and Juliette drew back from the window, for they were accompanied by the new-comer, whose boots made a sharper, clearer sound on the cobble-stones. "Yes," Juliette heard him explain, "I am an Englishman, but I come from Monsieur de Gemosac, for all that. And since Mademoiselle is here, I must see her.
She wished to judge him coldly and impartially, or rather to indict him before the throne of God, and to punish him for the crime he had commited ten years ago. Her personal feelings must remain out of the question. Had Charlotte Corday considered her own sensibilities, when with her own hand she put and end to Marat? Juliette remained on her knees for hours.
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