THREE:E. H. Bearne
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THREE:One evening he was at the Opera ball, then frequented by people in good society. Masked or not, they were equally known to M. dEspinchal, who as he walked through the rooms saw a man whom he actually did not know, wandering about with distracted looks. He went up to him, asking if he could be of any use, and was told by the perplexed stranger that he had just arrived from Orlans with his wife, who had insisted on coming to the Opera ball, that he had lost her in the crowd, and that she did not know the name of the h?tel or street where they were. Calm yourself, said M. dEspinchal, Madame, your wife is sitting by the second window in the foyer. I will take you to her, which he did. The husband overwhelmed him with thanks and asked how he could possibly have known her.What gives you the right to laugh at us, Monsieur? asked one of them, with irritation.
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THREE:At last the day arrived; the Duchess was to start at ten oclock. Pauline persuaded her to stay till twelve and breakfast with her. She forced herself to be calm, but all the morning her eyes followed her mother about as she came and went and helped her pack, listening to every sound of her voice, gazing as if to impress her face upon her memory, for she had been seized with a presentiment that she should see her no more. She pretended to eat, but could touch nothing, and then, thankful that her mother did not know of the long separation before them, went down to the carriage with her arm in hers. She held up her child for a last kiss, and then stood watching the carriage as it bore her mother out of her sight for ever in this world.
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THREE:Alexander, seeing the fearful danger hanging over his mother, his brother, and himself, was silent; and Pahlen, who was the director of the plot, took care that it should go much further than restraint.
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THREE:The prison of the Carmes was a very different abode to Port Libre, and it was just at its worst time, but still Trzia used afterwards to declare that she, after a time, got accustomed to the horrors of the prison. The constant presence of death made them more and more callous, and they would play games together like children, even enacting the scenes of execution which they had every prospect of going through in reality. Their room, or cell, looked out into the garden, through a grating, into which, however, they could not go; a single mattress in a corner served for their bed.
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