A quarter of an hour afterwards, Frederick made his way up to her apartment.
There was in it an indefinable odour, emanating from some delicate substances with which it was filled. In the middle of the bed lay a black dress, which formed a glaring contrast with the pink coverlet.
Madame Dambreuse was standing at the corner of the mantelpiece. Without attributing to her any passionate regret, he thought she looked a little sad; and, in a mournful voice, he said:
"You are enduring pain?"
"I? No—not at all."
As she turned around, her eyes fell on the dress, which she inspected. Then she told him not to stand on ceremony.
"Smoke, if you like! You can make yourself at home with me!"
And, with a great sigh:
"Ah! Blessed Virgin!—what a riddance!"
Frederick was astonished at this exclamation. He replied, as he kissed her hand: