She might wake her maid.

Oh, never would she dare to do that, and time pressed; a quarter to five! the regiment would start at five o'clock.
She might, perhaps, manage with the muslin dressing-gown, and the satin shoes; in the hall, she might find her hat, her little sabots which she wore in the garden, and the large tartan cloak for driving in wet weather.

She half-opened her door with infinite precautions.

Everything slept in the house; she crept along the corridor, she descended the staircase.
If only the little sabots are there in their place; that is her great anxiety.

There they are! She slips them on over her satin shoes, she wraps herself in her great mantle.
She hears that the rain has redoubled in violence.