O Maurice, rest easy; no woman lives who will make a fool of me, and laugh." "That's comfort;" and Maurice turned in.
This night it was the Englishman who sat up till the morning hours.
Sylvia Amerbach....

A fear possessed him.

If it should be, he thought; if it should be, what then?
Midnight in Madame's boudoir; no light save that which streamed rosily from the coals in the grate.

The countess sat with her slippered feet upon the fender.

She held in her hand a screen, and if any thoughts marked her face, they remained in blurred obscurity.
"Heu!" said Madame from the opposite side; "it is all over.