Soon the fair one moved forward toward her bed, sat down in a very low
armchair, in which she stretched herself out at her ease, and remained
for some moments, with her hands clasped over her head and her limbs
extended. just then midnight struck; we saw her take her right leg
slowly and cross it over her left, when we perceived that she had not yet
removed her shoes and stockings.

But what is the use of asking any more about it? These recollections
trouble me, and, although they have fixed themselves in my mind-very
firmly indeed, I can assure you--I feel an embarrassment mingled with
modesty at relating all to you at length. Besides, at the moment she
turned down the clothes, and prepared, to get into bed, the light went
out.

On the morrow, about ten o'clock in the evening, we all five again found
ourselves at Paul's, four of us with opera-glasses in our pockets. As on
the previous evening, the fair songstress sat down at her piano, then
proceeded slowly to make her night toilette. There was the same grace,
the same charm, but when we came to the fatal moment at which on the
preceding night the candle had gone out, a faint thrill ran through us
all. To tell the truth, for my part, I was nervous. Heaven, very
fortunately, was now on our side; the candle continued to burn. The
young woman then, with her charming hand, the plump outlines of which we
could easily distinguish, smoothed the pillow, patted it, arranged it
with a thousand caressing precautions in which the thought was suggested,
"With what happiness shall I now go and bury my head in it!"

Then she smoothed down the little wrinkles in the bed, the contact with
which might have irritated her, and, raising herself on her right arm,