sound of
long-drawn, regular breathing, like that of a child comfortably asleep.
Ah! so she was still slumbering, and so calmly, that it would be a pity
to disturb her. He felt dazed and somewhat annoyed at the adventure,
however, for it would spoil his morning's work. He got angry at his own
good nature; it would be better to shake her, so that she might go
at once. Nevertheless he put on his trousers and slippers softly, and
walked about on tiptoes.

The cuckoo clock struck nine, and Claude made a gesture of annoyance.
Nothing had stirred; the regular breathing continued. The best thing to
do, he thought, would be to set to work on his large picture; he would
see to his breakfast later on, when he was able to move about. But,
after all, he could not make up his mind. He who lived amid chronic
disorder felt worried by that heap of petticoats lying on the floor.
Some water had dripped from them, but they were damp still. And so,
while grumbling in a low tone, he ended by picking them up one by one
and spreading them over the chairs in the sunlight. Had one ever seen
the like, clothes thrown about anyhow? They would never get dry, and
she would never go off! He turned all that feminine apparel over very
awkwardly, got entangled with the black dress-body, and went on all
fours to pick up the stockings that had fallen behind an old canvas.
They were Balbriggan stockings of a dark grey, long and fine, and he
examined them, before hanging them up to dry. The water oozing from the
edge of the dress had soaked them, so he wrung and stretched them with
his warm hands, in order that he might be able to send her away the
quicker.

Since he had been on his legs, Claude had felt sorely tempted to push
aside the screen and to take a look at his guest. This self-condemned
curiosity only increased his bad temper. At last, with his habitual
shrug of the shoulders, he was taking up his brushes, when he heard some
words stammered amidst a rustling of bed-clothes. Then, however, soft
breathing was heard again, and this time he yielded to the temptation,
dropping his brushes, and peeping from behind the screen. The sight that
met his eyes rooted him to the spot, so fascinated that he muttered,
'Good gracious! good gracious!'

The girl, amidst the hot-house heat that came from the window, had
thrown back her coverlet, and, overcome with the fatigue of a restless
night, lay steeped in a flood of sunshine, unconscious of everything.
In he