He turned abruptly, the stranger made a similar
movement, startled no doubt at being brought in contact with a
stranger; and they remained face to face, each with the same thought.
"Pauline!"
"M. Raphael!"
Each surveyed the other, both of them petrified with astonishment.
Raphael noticed Pauline's daintily simple costume. A woman's
experienced eyes would have discerned and admired the outlines beneath
the modest gauze folds of her bodice and the lily whiteness of her
throat. And then her more than mortal clearness of soul, her maidenly
modesty, her graceful bearing, all were unchanged. Her sleeve was
quivering with agitation, for the beating of her heart was shaking her
whole frame.
"Come to the Hotel de Saint-Quentin to-morrow for your papers," she
said. "I will be there at noon. Be punctual."
She rose hastily, and disappeared. Raphael thought of following
Pauline, feared to compromise her, and stayed. He looked at Foedora;
she seemed to him positively ugly. Unable to understand a single
phrase of the music, and feeling stifled in the theatre, he went out,
and returned home with a full heart.
"Jonathan," he said to the old servant, as soon as he lay in bed,
"give me half a drop of laudanum on a piece of sugar, and don't wake
me to-morrow till twenty minutes to twelve.
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