The descent of that ancient staircase was to Calyste like the moment
of going into battle for the first time. His heart failed him, he had
nothing to say; a slight sweat pearled upon his forehead and wet his
back; his arm trembled so much that as they reached the lowest step
the marquise said to him: "Is anything the matter?"
"Oh!" he replied, in a muffled tone, "I have never seen any woman so
beautiful as you, except my mother, and I am not master of my
emotions."
"But you have Camille Maupin before your eyes."
"Ah! what a difference!" said Calyste, ingenuously.
"Calyste," whispered Felicite, who was just behind him, "did I not
tell you that you would forget me as if I had never existed? Sit
there," she said aloud, "beside the marquise, on her right, and you,
Claude, on her left. As for you, Gennaro, I retain you by me; we will
keep a mutual eye on their coquetries."
The peculiar accept which Camille gave to the last word struck Claude
Vignon's ear, and he cast that sly but half-abstracted look upon
Camille which always denoted in him the closest observation.
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