Camille (La Dame aux Camilias)

We followed Prudence downstairs. I trembled; it seemed to me that

this visit was to have a great influence on my life. I was still more

agitated than on the evening when I was introduced in the box at the

Opera Comique. As we reached the door that you know, my heart beat so

violently that I was hardly able to think.

We heard the sound of a piano. Prudence rang. The piano was silent. A

woman who looked more like a companion than a servant opened the door.

We went into the drawing-room, and from that to the boudoir, which was

then just as you have seen it since. A young man was leaning against the

mantel-piece. Marguerite, seated at the piano, let her fingers wander

over the notes, beginning scraps of music without finishing them. The

whole scene breathed boredom, the man embarrassed by the consciousness

of his nullity, the woman tired of her dismal visitor. At the voice of

Prudence, Marguerite rose, and coming toward us with a look of gratitude

to Mme. Duvernoy, said: "Come in, and welcome."