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'Thank you, dear gracious lady, she was beginning. There happened to be no purse in Elena's pocket, but the old woman was still holding out her hand. 'I have no money, grannie, said Elena, 'but here, take this, it will be of use for something. She gave her her handkerchief. 'O-oh, my pretty lady, said the beggar, 'what do you give your handkerchief to me for?
He wrote a note, and followed her as soon as he dared. She wore a calico frock, exactly like a hundred others, and her stiff black hair cut close to her neck in the style enforced by Doña Jacoba; but Dario recognized her imitation of Elena's walk and carriage. He was very nervous, but he managed to stroll about and make his visit appear one of curiosity.
They fancied he seemed to be in a great hurry, and as they flew towards him, they noticed that he had no hat, and there was a look of terror on his face that froze Elena's heart with the certainty of some unknown but terrible misfortune. "The lake! the lake!" he panted; "where is the mistress?"
She talked a great deal about him to Bersenyev. Bersenyev realised that Elena's imagination had been struck by Insarov, and was glad that his friend had not 'missed fire' as Shubin had asserted. One day Bersenyev came to the Stahovs, not at the customary time, but at eleven o'clock in the morning. Elena came down to him in the parlour.
Elena's face had grown pale and thin during these sad weeks, and she and Boris looked older; for they had begun to face the responsibilities of life, with no kind mother to stand between them and the hard reality.
A large gilt console table, with marble top, and looking glass, took up nearly one side of Elena's bedroom; and a glass chandelier hung from the centre of the ceiling where it was always interfering with the heads of the unwary.
The grating of my room at Elena's is above a little strip of Garden, and faces the blank wall of the next house. Sometimes who knows?" She shrugged her shoulders and gave a gay little laugh, then stood very erect and moved past him to the door. She had recognized the shuffling step of Father Abella. "Is supper ready, padre mio?" she asked sweetly.
With all their millions, the very most that they could ever hope to attain would be to marry their daughters with ordinary soldiers. Whilst Karl! . . . The relatives of Karl! . . . and the Romantica let her pen run on, glorifying a family in whose bosom she fancied she had been born. From time to time were enclosed with Elena's effusions brief, crisp notes directed to Desnoyers.
It may be pointed out that the exhaustion of these two workers has involved a loss and expense not only to themselves, but to the factory management, which has been obliged to employ in Elena's place two other less skilful embroiderers, and to the taxpayers and the philanthropists of New York who support charity hospitals and vacation homes.
Desnoyers became alarmed, his instinct warning him of danger. "There is something wrong," he thought. "There's a spring broken somewhere!" This lack of encouraging news coincided exactly with the sudden rise in Dona Elena's spirits. With whom had that woman been talking?
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