The Negro standing beside him with a dark lantern in his hand pointed to the boudoir and in a low tone uttered the words: "Honor and silence." He then disappeared.
Léon laid aside his sword, and entered swiftly. A woman, his unknown friend, dressed in a simple négligé, her head wrapped in a veil, was half reclining on a sofa.
Léon threw himself at her feet.
"I am a happy man!" he cried. "But what? Are you still hiding your face from me? For pity's sake make no more mystery; throw off your veil."
As he spoke he lifted his impatient hand. No obstacle was interposed but at the same instant the lap went out.
We dare not throw light on the darkness that Léon respected. We will not infringe the order of silence; we will only say that his highest hopes were surpassed by the reality, and in the pleasure of that meeting he had no desire to break his word.
Time passed quickly, and the night was far advanced when a slight sound was heard in the apartment; a secret door had been opened, the stranger disappeared, and Léon found himself alone. The Negro stood again before him, and respectfully requested him to replace the bandage over his eyes and follow him.
"No," he replied, both pained and vexed, "I will not go until I have seen her—until I have obtained—"
A woman's voice interrupted him, whispering close beside him, "Honor and silence."
Léon rushed toward the voice to find only a wall; he groped along it and came upon a small door fastened on the other side, through whose cracks he could distinguish a light that receded rapidly and then disappeared.