He was one of those men whose lives
astonish common people, whom the well-to-do citizen thinks faithless
and lawless, whose extravagant passions overleap the narrow bounds
of social prejudice; a man who tyrannizes over others, whom all fear,
who fights on the slightest provocation, who scatters gold with a
prodigal hand, whose iron health resists the most terrible excesses.
She had often in her miserable reveries tried to imagine what kind
of man this Count de Tremorel was. She awarded him with such
qualities as she desired for her fancied hero, with whom she could
fly from her husband in search of new adventures. And now, of a
sudden, he appeared before her.
"Give Hector your hand, dear," said Sauvresy. She held out her
hand, which Tremorel lightly pressed, and his touch seemed to give
her an electric shock.
Sauvresy threw himself into an arm-chair.
"You see, Bertha," said he, "our friend Hector is exhausted with
the life he has been leading. He has been advised to rest, and
has come to seek it here, with us."
"But, dear," responded Bertha, "aren't you afraid that the count
will be bored a little here?"
"Why?"
"Valfeuillu is very quiet, and we are but dull country folks.
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