Dieu du ciel, but where was Gerald? On the move again, she found herself standing before one of the mirrors, gazing into her own countenance without seeing it. As he turned the handle, it moved, and the door was taken from his hand and pulled outward by the young footman. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. . There was all the knavery, and more than all the drollery of a Spanish picaroon in the laughing eyes of the English apprentice; and, with a little more warmth and sunniness of skin on the side of the latter, the resemblance between them would have been complete.
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