me costume as at their interview in the house
in the Rue Blanche. For the site of this solemn meeting, so important to
her future happiness, Adrienne had chosen, with habitual tact, the grand
drawing-room of Cardoville House, in which hung many family portraits.
The most apparent were those of her father and mother. The room was large
and lofty, and furnished, like those which preceded it, with all the
imposing splendor of the age of Louis XIV. The ceiling, painted by
Lebrun, to represent the Triumph of Apollo, displayed his bold designing
and vigorous coloring, in the centre of a wide cornice, magnificently
carved and gilt, and supported at its angles by four large gilt figures,
representing the Seasons. Huge panels, covered with crimson damask, and
set in frames, served as the background to the family portraits which
adorned this apartment. It is easier to conceive than describe the
thousand conflicting emotions which agitated the bosom of Mdlle. de
Cardoville as the moment approached for her interview with Djalma. Their
meeting had been hitherto prevented by so many painful obstacles, and
Adrienne was so well aware of the vigilant and active perfidy of her
enemies, that even now she doubted of her happiness. Every instant, in
spite of herself, her eyes wandered to the clock. A few minutes more, and
the hour of the appointment would strike. It struck at last. Every
reverberation was echoed from the depth of Adrienne's heart. She
considered that Djalma's modest reserve had, doubtless, prevented his
coming before the moment fixed by herself. Far from blaming this
discretion, she fully appreciated it. But, from that moment, at the least
noise in the adjoining apartments, she held her breath and listened with
the anxiety of expectation.

For the first few minutes which followed the hour at which she expected
Djalma, Mdlle. de Cardoville felt no serious apprehension, and calmed her
impatience by the notion (which appears childish enough to those who have
never known the feverish agitation of waiting for a happy meeting), that
perhaps the clocks in the Rue Blanche might vary a little from those in
the Rue d'Anjou. But when this supposed variation, conceivable enough in
itself, could no longer explain a delay of a quarter of an hour, of
twenty minutes, of more, Adrienne felt her anxiety gradually increase.
Two or three times the young girl rose, with palpitating heart, and went
on tip-toe to listen at the door of the saloon.