midnight
The man sank without a groan amid the broken glass , beer , and blood . The savage aimed a terrific blow of the boot at the upturned face , but was jostled out of his aim . Again , and with the snarl of a wild beast ; but a woman had thrown herself across the prostrate figure and encircled the still form with her protecting arm . The butcher would have planted his iron-shod heel upon her , but at this critical juncture another woman -- a slender , pale , weak-looking thing whose blonde hair fell loosely over her rouged cheeks -- flew at him with a scream half human , half feline , -- such as chills the blood in the midnight of the forest . With one hand she tore out great bunches of beard by the roots , with the other she left red furrows on his face like the paths of a garden-rake . Quick as lightning-flashes , again and again , and with each successive stroke of her claws came the low , hysterical whine of the wild beast . It was Mlle. Fouchette .