Eusebe returned directly to his lodgings. For a long time he sat in
his room, his elbows resting on the table, and his face buried in
his hands. His heart had taken possession of his head, and he did
not try to account for what was passing within him. Although he had
no light, he closed his eyes, and the cantatrice appeared before
him, encircled by a resplendent halo.
He threw himself on his bed without undressing, but sleep he could
not. One by one he took off his garments, throwing some one way
and some another. He listened to the clock every time it struck
even the fractions of the hour, and every quarter seemed to him a
century. He breathed heavily, and a cold perspiration covered his
brow, while he rolled about on his couch, grating his teeth, and
occasionally muttering,--
“Mon Dieu! will the day never dawn?”
And then he found relief in tears.