So then he had been a whole year in Paris, she said.
“A delightful year,” he answered.
He had a charming apartment that had been occupied by Lord Falmouth, in the Rue St. Florentin. He had kept three horses—
“In a word,” he continued, bending forward, with his hands in his pockets, “trying to pass through this vale of tears as comfortably as possible. Is there any likeness in that locket?” he asked, after a pause.
“My husband’s.”
“Ah, let me see it”
And he opened the locket. Luiza’s face, as she bent forward to allow him to do so, was close to Bazilio’s breast, who breathed in the delicate perfume exhaled by her hair.
“He is a good-looking fellow,” said Bazilio.
There was a moment’s silence.
“How warm it is!” said Luiza. “It is suffocating, is it not?”