Meanwhile the marquis had hurried in the rear of Simonne, who was making off at the top of her pace, and he kept whispering in her ear while she shook her head in token of refusal.

Fauchery followed them, laughing.

And with that the count found himself alone with the dresser, who was washing out the basins.
Accordingly he took his departure, too, his legs almost failing under him.

Once more he put up flights of half-dressed women and caused doors to bang as he advanced.

But amid the disorderly, disbanded troops of girls to be found on each of the four stories, he was only distinctly aware of a cat, a great tortoise-shell cat, which went gliding upstairs through the ovenlike place where the air was poisoned with musk, rubbing its back against the banisters and keeping its tail exceedingly erect.
"Yes, to be sure!" said a woman hoarsely.