sternly, in French--and heavens! what French! Tartaglia sat before his
sovereign, all huddled up, with dejected tail, and eyes blinking and
twitching in confusion, under the peak of his cap which was stuck on
awry; from time to time when Napoleon raised his voice, Bernadotte
rose on his hind paws. '_Fuori, traditore!_' cried Napoleon at last,
forgetting in the excess of his wrath that he had to sustain his role
as a Frenchman to the end; and Bernadotte promptly flew under the
sofa, but quickly darted out again with a joyful bark, as though to
announce that the performance was over. All the spectators laughed,
and Sanin more than all.

Gemma had a particularly charming, continual, soft laugh, with very
droll little shrieks.... Sanin was fairly enchanted by that laugh--he
could have kissed her for those shrieks!

Night came on at last. He had in decency to take leave! After saying
good-bye several times over to every one, and repeating several times
to all, 'till to-morrow!'--Emil he went so far as to kiss--Sanin
started home, carrying with him the image of the young girl, at one
time laughing, at another thoughtful, calm, and even indifferent--but
always attractive! Her eyes, at one time wide open, clear and bright
as day, at another time half shrouded by the lashes and deep and dark
as night, seemed to float before his eyes, piercing in a strange sweet
way across all other images and recollections.

Of Herr Klueber, of the causes impelling him to remain in Frankfort--in
short, of everything that had disturbed his mind the evening
before--he never thought once.