"'Beware, Aimeri, lest the château know you not again, lest the park forget your name, lest the pond murmur: "Who is this stranger?"'"
But she had a cold, and was reading from a manuscript copy full of mistakes.
"Don't stand there, Fagette: it's the summer-house," said Romilly.
"How do you expect me to know that?"
"There's a chair put there."
"'Lest the pond murmur: "Who is this stranger?"'"
"Mademoiselle Nanteuil, it's your cue——Where has Nanteuil got to? Nanteuil!"
Nanteuil came forward muffled up in her furs, her little bag and her part in her hand, white as a sheet, her eyes sunken, her legs nerveless. When fully awake she had seen the dead man enter her bedroom.
She inquired:
"Where do I make my entrance from?"