His face was white--nay it was ugly with disappointment and rage, bitter snarling rage, that was hardly human.
He grasped her by the arm roughly and twisted her round without ceremony, so as to draw her a few paces aside; yet not so far that I could not hear what they said.
"He is not here!" he hissed.

"Do you understand?
He crossed the river to the Faubourg St.Germain at nightfall--searching for her.

And he has not come back! He is on the other side of the water, and midnight has struck this hour past!" She stood silent for a moment as if she had received a blow--silent and dismayed.

Something serious had happened.

I could see that.
"He cannot recross the river now ?" she said after a time.