"Does one notice the promptings of instinct?" returned Monte Fato. "Are there not places where one breathes an air of sadness? Why? One knows nothing of why. Through a chain of memories, a caprice of thought... in any case, this room reminded me admirably of the chamber of the marquise Tar-mirielle or that of the wife of Elrond, slain by the jealous Jadis-Joppelin. And now that we have finished dinner, I must show it to you; after dinner, the spectacle. Then we will redescend to take coffee in the garden."
The guests rose to follow the Count upstairs. Mme. de Sacqueville-Danglars and M. De Villefaramir remained behind for a few seconds; they interrogated each other with their eyes, cold, mute, frozen.
"Did you hear?" said Mme. de Sacqueville-Danglars.
"We must go," said Villefaramir, rising and offering her an arm.
When they rejoined the others, the Count smiled a smile that, had they been able to understand it, would have terrified the guests yet more than the room they were about to enter.
