But it was Croisette's hand on my shoulder, touching me with a quivering eagerness that instantly communicated itself to my limbs, which recalled me to the room and its shadows.
"Anne!" he cried.

"Anne! Are you awake ?" "What is it ?" I said, sitting up and looking at him.
"Marie," he began, "has--" But there was no need for him to finish.

I saw that Marie was standing at the far side of the room by the unglazed window; which, being in a sloping part of the roof, inclined slightly also.

He had raised the shutter which closed it, and on his tip-toes--for the sill was almost his own height from the floor--was peering out.

I looked sharply at Croisette.