for the Nineteenth Century in her bedroom. An open volume of Renan stood by her side; here and there the lady deftly paraphrased a few lines. Occasionally she sipped a cup of black-currant tea — an amiable weakness of this paragon when engaged upon her stirring labours.
In the next room Schuabe, with haggard face and twitching lips, paced rapidly up and down. From the door to the dressing-table — seven steps. From there to the fireplace — ten steps — avoiding the flower pattern of the carpet, stepping only on the blue squares. Seven! ten! and then back again.
Ten, seven, turn. A cold, soft dew came out upon his face, dried, hardened, and burst forth again.
Seven, ten, stop for a glass of water, and then on again, rapidly, hurriedly; the dawn is coming very near.
Ten! seven! turn!
