"And without reproach——"
"And without misunderstandings! And you are sure that Matilda is nothing——"
"Oh! hush!"
The door opened. How commonplace! The two old gentlemen crossed the drawing-room carrying a dark lantern.
"Notice how life is a medley of petty troubles and divine moments!" I said to her; "notice how reality differs from fiction. Could I dare to draw a scene like this in a novel or a drama without being accused of being humdrum? Just think—a confession of love without kisses, genuflexions or protestations, terminated by the appearance of two old men throwing the light of a dark lantern on the lovers! And yet therein lies the secret of Shakespeare's greatness, who shows us Julius Cæsar in dressing-gown and slippers, starting from his sleep at night, frightened by childish dreams."
The bell rang. The Baron and pretty Matilda were returning home. As he had a guilty conscience, he overwhelmed us with amiability. And I, eager to show myself in my new part, told him a barefaced lie.
"I've been quarrelling with the Baroness for the last hour!"
He gave us a scrutinising look, full of vindictiveness, and scenting the air like a hound, seemed to catch the wrong scent.