She nodded.
He lit the lamp. The flame grew until it illuminated a small circle about the table.
“Now what?” Cartaret inquired.
Again that odd gesture toward the nose and mouth.
“I don’t understand,” said Cartaret.
She picked up the lamp and made as if to search the floor for something. Then she held out the lamp to him.
“Oh”—it began to dawn on Cartaret—“you’ve lost something?”
“Oui, oui!”
He took the lamp, and they both fell on their knees. Together they began a minute inspection of the dusty floor. Cartaret’s mind was more easy now: at least his Lady suffered no physical distress.
“It’s like a sort of religious ceremony,” muttered the American, as, foot by foot, they crawled and groped over the grimy boards....