The Chevalier raised his head. . . . A woman? Or was his brain
mocking him? And masked? How came she here? He was confused, and his
sense of emergency lay fallow. He knew not what to do. One thing was
certain; he must make known his presence, for he was positive that she
was unaware of it. He rose, and the noise of his chair sliding back
brought from her an affrighted cry. She turned. The light of the
candle played upon his face.
"Madame, pardon me, but I have been asleep. I did not hear you enter.
It was very careless of them to show you in here."
She rose without speaking and walked toward the door, with no uncertain
step, with a dignity not lacking in majesty.
"She sees I have been drinking," he thought. "Pray, Madame, do not
leave. Rather let me do that."
She made a gesture, hurried but final, and left him.
"It seems to me," mused the Chevalier, resuming his seat, "that I have
lost gallantry to-night, among other considerable things. I might have
opened the door for her. I wonder why she did not speak?"