I am now beginning
to get over mine."
The light mockery of her tone struck him as the echo of an unforgotten
air. He looked at her a moment, and then he said--
"You are not changed; I find you quite the same."
"I am sorry for that!" And she turned away.
"What are you doing?" he asked. "Where are you going?"
She looked about her, without answering, up and down the little terrace.
The Casino at Blanquais was a much more modest place of reunion than
the Conversation-house at Baden-Baden. It was a small, low structure of
brightly painted wood, containing but three or four rooms, and furnished
all along its front with a narrow covered gallery, which offered a
delusive shelter from the rougher moods of the fine, fresh weather.
It was somewhat rude and shabby--the subscription for the season was
low--but it had a simple picturesqueness. Its little terrace was a very
convenient place for a stroll, and the great view of the ocean and of
the marble-white crags that formed the broad gate-way of the shallow
bay, was a sufficient compensation for the absence of luxuries. There
were a few people sitting in the gallery, and a few others scattered
upon the terrace; but the pleasure-seekers of Blanquais were, for the
most part, immersed in the salt water or disseminated on the grassy
downs.
Pages:
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208