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Sabatini, Rafael, 1875-1950

"Scaramouche"


They left him, to speed on now through the open country, following
the road that continued to hug the river. They sat back mutely
despairing, staring hopelessly ahead, Aline's hand clasped tight
in madame's. In the distance, across the meadows on their right,
they could see already the long, dusky line of trees of the Bois,
and presently the carriage swung aside following a branch of the
road that turned to the right, away from the river and heading
straight for the forest.
Mademoiselle broke at last the silence of hopelessness that had
reigned between them since they had passed the barrier.
"Oh, it is impossible that we should come in time! Impossible!"
"Don't say it! Don't say it!" madame cried out.
"But it is long past nine, madame! Andre would be punctual, and
these... affairs do not take long. It... it will be all over by now."
Madame shivered, and closed her eyes. Presently, however, she opened
them again, and stirred. Then she put her head from the window. "A
carriage is approaching," she announced, and her tone conveyed the
thing she feared.


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