The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection. ‘As to that, I am at this moment altogether displeased with Gérard, you understand,’ Melusine temporised. Me, I prefer to forget that I have such a father. I think she might be up to something. He made the universe on those lines. ” 209 Clotilde was no fool.
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