How could you draw the curtain aside which hides the great and holy places of life—you, who have never loved?” “You have become French to the core,” she murmured. This is your moment. Sleep did not come easily, but eventually her mind stopped its chattering and she fell into a deep slumber. Meanwhile, the clergyman, bare-headed and in his surplice, advanced to meet them. It appeared he had already ordered dinner and wine, and the whiskered waiter waved in his subordinate with the soup forthwith. The distinction lay chiefly in the right to pat their heads. They said no more for a moment, and each was now acutely aware of the other. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague.
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