Each
pressing close to the other's side, like a pair of doves, they reached
the Place de la Sorbonne, where Pauline's carriage was waiting.
"I want to go home with you," she said. "I want to see your own room
and your study, and to sit at the table where you work. It will be
like old times," she said, blushing.
She spoke to the servant. "Joseph, before returning home I am going to
the Rue de Varenne. It is a quarter-past three now, and I must be back
by four o'clock. George must hurry the horses." And so in a few
moments the lovers came to Valentin's abode.
"How glad I am to have seen all this for myself!" Pauline cried,
creasing the silken bed-curtains in Raphael's room between her
fingers. "As I go to sleep, I shall be here in thought. I shall
imagine your dear head on the pillow there. Raphael, tell me, did no
one advise you about the furniture of your hotel?"
"No one whatever."
"Really? It was not a woman who----"
"Pauline!"
"Oh, I know I am fearfully jealous. You have good taste. I will have a
bed like yours to-morrow."
Quite beside himself with happiness, Raphael caught Pauline in his
arms.
"Oh, my father!" she said; "my father----"
"I will take you back to him," cried Valentin, "for I want to be away
from you as little as possible.
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