" Here a murmur of amazement arose from the assemblage outside. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. ” 209 Clotilde was no fool. Celeste he knew. The only departure which he made from the fashion of the period, was in respect to the peruke—an article he could never be induced to wear. Shot him, do you hear?” “Good God!” he exclaimed, looking at her curiously. She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word.
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