"Leave me alone for a few minutes, all of you! I will not keep you waiting long," said Claudia.
"She wishes to be alone to offer up a short prayer before going to be married," was the thought in the heart of each one of the party, as they filed out of the room.
Did Claudia wish to pray? Did she intend to ask God's protection against evil? Did she dare to ask his blessing on the act she contemplated?
We shall see.
She went after the last retreating figure and closed and bolted the door. Then she returned to her dressing bureau, opened a little secret drawer and took from it a tiny jar of rouge, and with a piece of cotton-wool applied it to her deathly-white cheeks until she had produced there an artificial bloom, more brilliant than that of her happiest days, only because it was more brilliant than that of nature. Then to soften its fire she powdered her face with pearl white, and finally with a fine handkerchief carefully dusted off the superfluous particles.
Having done this, she put away her cosmetics and took from the same receptacle a vial of the spirits of lavender and mixed a spoonful of it with water and drank it off.
Then she returned the vial to its place and locked up the secret drawer where she kept her deceptions.
She gave one last look at the mirror, saw that between the artificial bloom and the artificial stimulant her face presented a passable counterfeit of its long-lost radiance; she drew her bridal veil around so as to shade it a little, lowered her head and raised her bouquet, that her friends might not see the suspicious suddenness of the transformation from deadly pallor to living bloom—for though Claudia, in an hour of hysterical passion, had discovered this secret of her toilet to Beatrice, yet she was really ashamed of it, and wished to conceal it from all others.
She opened the door, went out, and joined her friends in the hall, saying with a cheerfulness that she had found in the lavender vial:
"I am quite ready for the show now!"