At last, Jammes, flinging herself upon the farthest corner of the wall, with every mark of real terror on her face, whispered: "Listen!" Everybody seemed to hear a rustling outside the door.

There was no sound of footsteps.

It was like light silk sliding over the panel.
Then it stopped.
Sorelli tried to show more pluck than the others.

She went up to the door and, in a quavering voice, asked: "Who's there ?" But nobody answered.

Then feeling all eyes upon her, watching her last movement, she made an effort to show courage, and said very loudly: "Is there any one behind the door ?" "Oh, yes, yes! Of course there is!" cried that little dried plum of a Meg Giry, heroically holding Sorelli back by her gauze skirt.
"Whatever you do, don't open the door! Oh, Lord, don't open the door!" But Sorelli, armed with a dagger that never left her, turned the key and drew back the door, while the ballet-girls retreated to the inner dressing-room and Meg Giry sighed: "Mother! Mother!" Sorelli looked into the passage bravely.