She ran to the window, but all was dark. She went to her mistress' door, where she listened.
"She is asleep; but I will know all about it to-morrow."
It was broad day when Andrea de Taverney awoke.
In trying to rise, she felt such lassitude and sharp pain that she fell back on the pillow uttering a groan.
"Goodness, what is the matter?" cried Nicole, who had opened the curtains.
"I do not know. I feel lame all over; my chest seems broken in."
"It is the outbreak of the cold you caught last night," said the maid.
"Last night?" repeated the surprised lady; but she remarked the disorder of her room, and added: "Stay, I remember that I felt very tired—exhausted—it must have been the storm. I fell to sleep over my music. I recall nothing further. I went up hither half asleep, and must have thrown myself on the bed without undressing
properly."
"You must have stayed very late at the music, then," observed Nicole, "for, before you retired to your bedroom I came down, having heard steps about——"