In the evening he repaired to the
trysting-place and submitted complacently to having his eyes bandaged.
Then, with that firm will which only really strong men have the
faculty of concentrating, he devoted his attention and applied his
intelligence to the task of divining through what streets the carriage
passed. He had a sort of certitude of being taken to the Rue
Saint-Lazare, and being brought to a halt at the little gate in the
garden of the Hotel San-Real. When he passed, as on the first occasion,
through this gate, and was put in a litter, carried, doubtless by the
mulatto and the coachman, he understood, as he heard the gravel grate
beneath their feet, why they took such minute precautions. He would
have been able, had he been free, or if he had walked, to pluck a twig
of laurel, to observe the nature of the soil which clung to his boots;
whereas, transported, so to speak, ethereally into an inaccessible
mansion, his good fortune must remain what it had been hitherto, a
dream. But it is man's despair that all his work, whether for good or
evil, is imperfect. All his labors, physical or intellectual, are
sealed with the mark of destruction. There had been a gentle rain, the
earth was moist. At night-time certain vegetable perfumes are far
stronger than during the day; Henri could smell, therefore, the scent
of the mignonette which lined the avenue along which he was conveyed.
This indication was enough to light him in the researches which he
promised himself to make in order to recognize the hotel which
contained Paquita's boudoir.
Pages:
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457