like a fairy who upon a chariot of clouds guides a
flock of pigeons.

Shortly after midnight she rose, a fleeting, complacent, capricious
smile flashing across her face, and, with a rather affected bow, she
left the room, the men relapsing into a sudden, strange silence.
Monsieur Seguret was agitated when he conducted his guests to the door,
and they left the chateau as silently as thieves.

The President strode up and down the entrance-hall awhile, his thoughts
chasing each other like a fleeing troop of wild animals. As the echo of
his footsteps struck him unpleasantly, he stepped out into the garden,
and, strolling in the winding paths, he inhaled the fresh night air
with a feeling of relief. As lie was leaving the avenue of yews, a
streak of light fell across the path; Monsieur Seguret stepped upon the
low wall encircling a small fountain and could thus look into
Clarissa's room, the windows of which stood open. With difficulty he
refrained from crying out in astonishment on beholding Clarissa in a
loose nightdress, dancing with an expression of ecstasy and with
passionate movements. Her eyes were tightly closed, as if they were
sealed, her eyebrows lifted in coquettish anxiety, her shoulders rocked
in a stream of inaudible tones whose tempo seemed now hurried, now
excessively slow. Suddenly she seized something and held it before
her,--it was a mirror; glancing into it, she recoiled with a shudder
and let it fall, so that the listener could hear the clinking of the
broken glass; then she went up to the window, tore her dress from her
bosom, laid her hand upon her bare breast and looked straight in the
direction where Monsieur Seguret was standing. He crouched down as if a
gun had been aimed at him; Clarissa, however, did not see him; she
fixed her gaze awhile upon the sweeping clouds and then closed the
window. The President remained standing at his post some time longer
and was unable to divert the current of his thoughts. Whom is she
deceiving? he pondered, distressed--herself, or people in general, or
God?

For the first time in many days Clarissa enjoyed a peaceful sleep once
more. Yet when she laid herself in her white bed the pillows seemed to
assume a purple hue and she fell into slumber as into an abyss. She
dreamed of landscapes, of weird old houses, and of a sky that looked
like clotted blood. She herself wandered in the silvery light, and
without feeling any touch or seeing any human form, she neverthe