So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. When she awoke, her husband held her hand as 31 Sebastianus urged her to drink weak wine. She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings. "Yes," answered the girl. According to Lucilla, this comtesse had constituted herself something of a social leader in the rapidly growing assemblage of refugees, and would undoubtedly be ready to introduce an eligible bachelor appropriately. Buried under various ancestral sixteenths, smothered under modern thought, liberty of action and bewildering variety of flesh-pots, it was still alive to the extent that it needed only his present state to resuscitate it in all its peculiar force. Was he, too, on the way to the beach? What a pity! All alone, and none to warn him of the abject wretchedness at the end of Drink. Their expression was so amiable, that it would have redeemed a countenance a thousand times plainer than hers.
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