Anne Mie's plaintive singing had died away in the distance.

She started, and jumped to her feet, hastily drying her eyes.

The momentary dream was dispelled, and she was ashamed of her weakness.
He, the cause of all her sorrows, of her sin, and of her degradation, had no right to see her suffer.
She would have fled out of the house now, but it was too late.

He had come out of his study, and, seeing her there on her knees weeping, he came quickly forward, trying, with all the innate chivalry of his upright nature, not to let her see that he had been a witness to her tears.
"You are going out, mademoiselle ?" he said courteously, as, wrapping her cloak around her, she was turning towards the door.
"Yes, yes," she replied hastily; "a small errand, I ..." "Is it anything I can do for you ?" "No." "If ..." he added, with visible embarrassment, "if your errand would brook a delay, might I crave the honour of your presence in my study for a few moments ?" "My errand brooks of no delay, Citizen Deroulede," she said as composedly as she could, "and perhaps on my return I might ..." "I am leaving almost directly, mademoiselle, and I would wish to bid you good-bye." He stood aside to allow her to pass, either out, through the street door or across the hall to his study.
There had been no reproach in his voice towards the guest, who was thus leaving him without a word of farewell.

Perhaps if there had been any, Juliette would have rebelled.