She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. When she saw however that this man was a stranger, and obviously harmless, her expression changed as though by magic. The tapstress was full of curiosity; but she appeared more easy than the others. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. The kindly faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome gentleman with a great black mustache. ‘You think I am like that Valade? No, a thousand times.
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