"'If death awaited me on leaving the house, I would go the more
quickly,' he replied.

"'_Poverino!_' cried the stranger, as he disappeared.

"To talk of danger to a man in love is to sell him pleasure.
Sarrasine's valet had never seen his master so painstaking in the
matter of dress. His finest sword, a gift from Bouchardon, the
bow-knot Clotilde gave him, his coat with gold braid, his waistcoat
of cloth of silver, his gold snuff-box, his valuable watch,
everything was taken from its place, and he arrayed himself like a
maiden about to appear before her first lover. At the appointed hour,
drunk with love and boiling over with hope, Sarrasine, his nose
buried in his cloak, hurried to the rendezvous appointed by the old
woman. She was waiting.

"'You are very late,' she said. 'Come.'

"She led the Frenchman through several narrow streets and stopped in
front of a palace of attractive appearance. She knocked; the door
opened. She led Sarrasine through a labyrinth of stairways, galleries,
and apartments which were lighted only by uncertain gleams of
moonlight, and soon reached a door through the cracks of which stole a
bright light, and from which came the joyous sound of several voices.
Sarrasine was suddenly blinded when, at a word from the old woman, he
was admitted to that mysterious apartment and found himself in a salon
as brilliantly lighted as it was sumptuously furnished; in the centre
stood a bountifully supplied table, laden with inviolable bottles,
with laughing decanters whose red facets sparkled merrily. He