I heard the sound of his breath! I could not look up towards him; the least movement of my head, and--I might be lost.

Would he see me ?--Would he peer into the darkness?
No; he went away.

He had seen nothing.

I felt, rather than heard, him moving on tip-toe in the room; and I mounted a few steps higher.

My head reached to the level of the window-sill; my forehead rose above it; my eyes looked between the opening in the blinds--and I saw--A man seated at Mademoiselle Stangerson's little desk, writing.