Frapesle."

"Very imprudent of you," the count said, turning to me; "but at your
age--" and he shook his head in sign of regret.

The conversation was resumed. I soon saw how intractable his royalism
was, and how much care was needed to swim safely in his waters. The
man-servant, who had now put on his livery, announced dinner. Monsieur
de Chessel gave his arm to Madame de Mortsauf, and the count gaily
seized mine to lead me into the dining-room, which was on the
ground-floor facing the salon.

This room, floored with white tiles made in Touraine, and wainscoted
to the height of three feet, was hung with a varnished paper divided
into wide panels by wreaths of flowers and fruit; the windows had
cambric curtains trimmed with red, the buffets were old pieces by
Boulle himself, and the woodwork of the chairs, which were covered by
hand-made tapestry, was carved oak. The dinner, plentifully supplied,
was not luxurious; family silver without uniformity, Dresden china
which was not then in fashion, octagonal decanters, knives with agate
handles, and lacquered trays beneath the wine-bottles, were the chief
features of the table, but flowers adorned the porcelain vases and
overhung the gilding of their fluted edges. I delighted in these
quaint old things. I thought the Reveillon paper with its flowery
garlands beautiful. The sweet content that filled my sails hindered me
from perceiving the obstacles which a life so uniform, so unvarying in
solitude of the country placed between her and me. I was near her,
sitting at her right hand, serving her with wine. Yes, unhoped-for
joy! I touched her dress, I ate her bread. At the end of three hours
my life had mingled with her life! That terrible kiss had bound us to