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I wish to believe it for your sake, my poor boy." Rouletabille desired something besides "I wish to believe it for your sake, my poor boy." He was far from being satisfied. She saw him turn pale. She tried to reassure him while her trembling hands raised the lid of the wine-chest.
How in the world could he dine if he did not prepare for that important act by the rapid absorption of two or three little glasses of white wine, between two or three sandwiches of caviare! "Ermolai must have left it in the wine-chest," said Matrena. The wine-closet was in the dining-room.
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