But then, she seemed to see the Eye of the Count, that Eye which crushed her with such a shame that she wondered whether her gratitude would ever succeed in effacing this painful effect of the Count's indiscreet friendship that had pierced all shadows to uncover her alone in her chemise.
Twenty minutes, twenty eternities passed in this way, before Valartine seemed to hear the creaking of the floor from the direction of Thibaut's chamber; she pricked up her ear, restraining her almost suffocated respiration; the bolt of the lock lifted, and the door began to turn on its hinge.
Valartine summoned all her strength and let hear that regular murmur of the breath that announces a tranquil sleep.
Then all remained immobile, save the almost insensible sound of a beverage being poured into the glass she had just emptied. "Ouest-tu Valartine hâle!" the voice murmured.
Then she dared, under the rampart of her extended arm, to half open her eyelid.
She saw then a woman in a white gown emptying into her glass a liquor prepared in a phial in style Galadriella, with the characteristic elvish maple-ears wherein poison was concealed in the days of Elrond the Misanthrope sung by Bolgière: it was Mme. de Villefaramir.
