She is at home--I am sure of it--I can hear her." Indeed, ever since noon, Sidonie has listened intently to the slightest sounds on the floor below, the child's crying, the closing of doors.
Risler attempts to go down again in order to avoid a renewal of the conversation at breakfast; but his wife will not allow him to do so.

The very least he can do is to stay with her when everybody else abandons her, and so he remains there, at a loss what to say, rooted to the spot, like those people who dare not move during a storm for fear of attracting the lightning.

Sidonie moves excitedly about, going in and out of the salon, changing the position of a chair, putting it back again, looking at herself as she passes the mirror, and ringing for her maid to send her to ask Pere Achille if no one has inquired for her.
That Pere Achille is such a spiteful creature! Perhaps when people have come, he has said that she was out.
But no, the concierge has not seen any one.
Silence and consternation.

Sidonie is standing at the window on the left, Risler at the one on the right.

From there they can see the little garden, where the darkness is gathering, and the black smoke which the chimney emits beneath the lowering clouds.