Madame locked the door, and amused herself with her own business, without
minding me, humming little nasal snatches of French airs, as she smirked on
her silken purchases displayed in the daylight. Suddenly it struck me that
it was very dark, considering how early it was. I looked at my watch;
it seemed to me a great effort of concentration to understand it. Four
o'clock, it said. Four o'clock! It would be dark at five--_night_ in one
hour!
'Madame, what o'clock is it? Is it evening?' I cried with my hand to my
forehead, like a person puzzled.
'Two three minutes past four. It had five minutes to four when I came
upstairs,' answered she, without interrupting her examination of a piece of
darned lace which she was holding close to her eyes at the window.
'Oh, Madame! _Madame!_ I'm frightened,' cried I, with a wild and piteous
voice, grasping her arm, and looking up, as shipwrecked people may their
last to heaven, into her inexorable eyes. Madame looked frightened too, I
thought, as she stared into my face. At last she said, rather angrily, and
shaking her arm loose--
'What you mean, cheaile?'
'Oh save me, Madame!--oh save me!--oh save me, Madame!' I pleaded, with the
wild monotony of perfect terror, grasping and clinging to her dress, and
looking up, with an agonised face, into the eyes of that shadowy Atropos.
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