The Count of Monte Cristo

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Eugenie covered her face with her hands. "Oh, ho!" said Andrea, "you
need not be ashamed, even though you did post after me. Was I not nearly
your husband?"

And with this raillery Andrea went out, leaving the two girls a prey to
their own feelings of shame, and to the comments of the crowd. An hour
after they stepped into their calash, both dressed in feminine attire.
The gate of the hotel had been closed to screen them from sight, but
they were forced, when the door was open, to pass through a throng of
curious glances and whispering voices. Eugenie closed her eyes; but
though she could not see, she could hear, and the sneers of the crowd
reached her in the carriage. "Oh, why is not the world a wilderness?"
she exclaimed, throwing herself into the arms of Mademoiselle d'Armilly,
her eyes sparkling with the same kind of rage which made Nero wish that
the Roman world had but one neck, that he might sever it at a single
blow. The next day they stopped at the Hotel de Flandre, at Brussels.
The same evening Andrea was incarcerated in the Conciergerie.