She
dreamed of descending by a ladder from the kiosk into the garden of
the house occupied by Albert; of taking advantage of the lawyer's
being asleep to look through the window into his private room. She
thought of writing to him, or of bursting the fetters of Besancon
society by introducing Albert to the drawing-room of the Hotel de
Rupt. This enterprise, which to the Abbe de Grancey even would have
seemed the climax of the impossible, was a mere passing thought.
"Ah!" said she to herself, "my father has a dispute pending as to his
land at les Rouxey. I will go there! If there is no lawsuit, I will
manage to make one, and _he_ shall come into our drawing-room!" she
cried, as she sprang out of bed and to the window to look at the
fascinating gleam which shone through Albert's nights. The clock
struck one; he was still asleep.
"I shall see him when he gets up; perhaps he will come to his window."
At this instant Mademoiselle de Watteville was witness to an incident
which promised to place in her power the means of knowing Albert's
secrets. By the light of the moon she saw a pair of arms stretched out
from the kiosk to help Jerome, Albert's servant, to get across the
coping of the wall and step into the little building. In Jerome's
accomplice Rosalie at once recognized Mariette the lady's-maid.
"Mariette and Jerome!" said she to herself. "Mariette, such an ugly
girl! Certainly they must be ashamed of themselves.
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