The Opposite House: A Novel — page 215: what you’re looking at

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

210 The Opposite Flouse. boulevards, chatting with an acquaintance, a branch of laurel fell on the neck of his horse, and a laugh- ing face bent from a carriage an da familiar voice called : “ Bon jour, Maurice !” He again saw his dancer of the Variétés. His love surged up again in his heart, stronger, more sincere thanever; but there was no time to tell her so. And why should he? She probably loved him no better now than in former days. So he went to the war. He wrote to her several times, and con- stantly expected a few lines in reply; but in vain. She had probably never received his letters. “What was the lady’s name?” asked Traugott, eagerly. “Blanche Vertieux,” said the cuirassier, dreamily. “So it was not she,’ murmured Gerrald. He fancied he must know the dancer, too. The fire snapped on the hearth; a little lamp which diffused a flickering light hung from the chim- ney. Thesick-room was silent. Maurice lay asleep ; the captain had stumped out into the hall on his wooden leg to chat with some comrades, or to write letters home, and Traugott lay silently on his cushions, painting sweet visions of the future. Just at that moment the door noiselessly opened. A woman’s slender figure entered, brushing the flakes of snow from her black dress, The hussar ComicboOoks.c©