The Opposite House: A Novel — page 118: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Lhe Opposite House. 13! embrace of the handsome man. She dared not raise her dark lashes, and fancied he must hear the rapid beating of her heart, which threatened to stifle her. The folds of purple cloth fell, a death- like silence still reigned, broken by thunders of ap. plause, shouts of encore—till the enraptured audi- ence again beheld the tableau, which was the masterpiece of the entertainment. Marie involuntarily leaned closer to the handsome man; her eyes questioned the white petals a second time. ‘He loves me—loves me not—loves me not.” Gerrald looked marvelously well. The noble head, with its regular profile, seemed chiseled from stone; the haughty features were motionless, and, as he took his position the second time, the cap had slipped back and his thick fair hair fell low over his white brow—the accident enhanced the beauty of the tableau. “Who is it? Who are they?” was asked on all sides. A tumult of voices rose, and, like a cry of victory, the names“ Rotterswyl,” “ Gerrald”’ echoed through the hall. Two eyes alone rested with a fixed, lustreless gaze upon the beautiful picture, two hands were convulsively clinched in rage among the folds of black moire antique. They were the hands of the widowed Baroness von Rotterswyl. A sudden tem- Comiclboolk<s 5}