Andrea imitated Nicole in stretching her lovely arms, which, by this extension, parted the gown an instant; then she leaned out to examine the neighboring grounds at her leisure. Her face expressed rare satisfaction, for while she seldom smiled on men, she made up for it by often smiling on things.
On all sides the rear house was shaded by fine trees.
Rousseau's house attracted her gaze like all the other buildings, but no more. From her point, the upper part alone could be espied, but what concern had she in the servants' quarters in a house?
Andrea therefore came to the conclusion that she was unseen and alone, with no curious or joking face of Parisians on the edge of this tranquil retreat, so dreaded by country ladies.
Leaving her window wide open for the sunshine to flush the remotest corners, the young lady went to pull the bellrope at the fire-place side and began to dress in the twilight. Nicole ran in and opening the straps of a shagreen dressing-case dating from a previous reign, took a tortoise-shell comb and disentangled her mistress' tresses.
Gilbert smothered a sigh. He could hardly be said to recognize the hair, for Andrea followed the fashion in powdering it, but he knew her a hundred times fairer without the frippery than in the most pompous decorations. His mouth dried up, his fingers scorched with fever, and his eye ceased to see from his staring
too hard.
Chance ruled that Andrea's gaze, idle as it was from her sitting still to have her hair brushed, fell on Rousseau's attic.
"Yes, yes, keep on staring," uttered the youth, "but you will see nothing and I shall see all."