And to assure herself that she was not dreaming, that she was really in the
Curé of Althausen's bed, she spoke to him in mincing tones:
—You say nothing, my handsome master. You seem to be dejected. What! you are not tired out already?
And she put out her hand to give him a caress. But he sprang out of bed, surfeited with disgust.
—Ah, true, she said, happiness makes us forgetful. I was forgetting your
Mass.
And she rose also, and ran off to her room, laughing like a madcap, and carrying her dress and petticoats under her arm.
LV.
IN THE FOOT-PATH.
"'Tis the comer blest where God's creatures dwell,
The wild birds' haunt and the dragon-fly's home,
Where the queen-bee flies when she leaves her cell,
Where Spring in the verdant glades doth roam."
CAMILLE DELTHIL (Les Rustiques).
"Abomination of abomination!" murmured Marcel, and he went out in haste; he would not remain another minute in that cursed house. It seemed to him that the walls of his room reeked of debauchery, and that everything there was impregnated with the odour of foul orgies.