I do not know if the viscount heard the girl’s swooning voice, for he was too much occupied by the astounding spectacle that now appeared before his distracted gaze. As for me, I had seen that sight too often, through the little window, at the time of the rosy hours of Mazenderan; and I cared only for what was being said next door, seeking for a hint how to act, what resolution to take.

“Go and peep through the little window! Tell me what he looks like!”

We heard the steps being dragged against the wall.

“Up with you!⁠ ⁠… No!⁠ ⁠… No, I will go up myself, dear!”

“Oh, very well, I will go up. Let me go!”

“Oh, my darling, my darling!⁠ ⁠… How sweet of you!⁠ ⁠… How nice of you to save me the exertion at my age!⁠ ⁠… Tell me what he looks like!”