Then the blood began once more to circulate like lightning in her veins,—and her voluptuous bosom panted against the young Italian’s chest.
Here shall we leave the amorous pair; for, after a little tender dalliance and another glass of the exciting juice of Epernay, they retired to the chamber whose portal we must not pass to follow them.
At eight o’clock in the morning Lorenzo Barthelma took his departure; and shortly afterwards Rosalie entered Laura’s room.
The Frenchwoman, who was as discreet as she was an adept at intrigue, wore the usual calm and respectful expression of countenance; and not even by a sly smile nor an arch look did she appear as if she devoted a thought to the manner in which her mistress had passed the night.
“Did the captain depart unperceived?” inquired Laura, who, although she had given no instructions to that effect, was nevertheless well assured that her intelligent abigail had superintended the egress of the handsome Italian.
“Entirely unobserved, mademoiselle,” was the answer. “I amused the porter and his wife in their lodge for a few minutes while Captain Barthelma slipped out into the street. Three persons alone are acquainted with last night’s adventure,—you, the captain, and myself.”
“Good!” exclaimed Laura: then, drawing aside the curtain of the bed in which she was voluptuously pillowed, she said, “And now, my dear Rosalie, give me an account of your proceedings relative to the Marquis of Delmour.”
“I have learnt but a few facts, mademoiselle,” was the reply: “those, however, are of some importance. He is enormously rich—very generous—bears an excellent character——”
“Is he married?” demanded Laura, hastily.