She caught him in her arms, as though she feared to see him disappear down the black hole, and, in a trembling voice, whispered:
“Never! … I will not have you go there! … Besides, it’s not mine … everything that is underground belongs to him! ”
Raoul looked her in the eyes and said roughly:
“So he lives down there, does he?”
“I never said so. … Who told you a thing like that? Come away! I sometimes wonder if you are quite sane, Raoul. … You always take things in such an impossible way. … Come along! Come!”
And she literally dragged him away, for he was obstinate and wanted to remain by the trapdoor; that hole attracted him.
Suddenly, the trapdoor was closed and so quickly that they did not even see the hand that worked it; and they remained quite dazed.
“Perhaps he was there,” Raoul said, at last.
She shrugged her shoulders, but did not seem easy.
“No, no, it was the ‘trapdoor-shutters.’ They must do something, you know. … They open and shut the trapdoors without any particular reason. … It’s like the ‘door-shutters:’ they must spend their time somehow.”
“But suppose it were he , Christine?”
“No, no! He has shut himself up, he is working.”
“Oh, really! He’s working, is he?”
“Yes, he can’t open and shut the trapdoors and work at the same time.” She shivered.