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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 132 pages of information about The Wandering Jew Volume 10.
of a wide cornice, magnificently carved and gilt, and supported at its angles by four large gilt figures, representing the Seasons.  Huge panels, covered with crimson damask, and set in frames, served as the background to the family portraits which adorned this apartment.  It is easier to conceive than describe the thousand conflicting emotions which agitated the bosom of Mdlle. de Cardoville as the moment approached for her interview with Djalma.  Their meeting had been hitherto prevented by so many painful obstacles, and Adrienne was so well aware of the vigilant and active perfidy of her enemies, that even now she doubted of her happiness.  Every instant, in spite of herself, her eyes wandered to the clock.  A few minutes more, and the hour of the appointment would strike.  It struck at last.  Every reverberation was echoed from the depth of Adrienne’s heart.  She considered that Djalma’s modest reserve had, doubtless, prevented his coming before the moment fixed by herself.  Far from blaming this discretion, she fully appreciated it.  But, from that moment, at the least noise in the adjoining apartments, she held her breath and listened with the anxiety of expectation.

For the first few minutes which followed the hour at which she expected Djalma, Mdlle. de Cardoville felt no serious apprehension, and calmed her impatience by the notion (which appears childish enough to those who have never known the feverish agitation of waiting for a happy meeting), that perhaps the clocks in the Rue Blanche might vary a little from those in the Rue d’Anjou.  But when this supposed variation, conceivable enough in itself, could no longer explain a delay of a quarter of an hour, of twenty minutes, of more, Adrienne felt her anxiety gradually increase.  Two or three times the young girl rose, with palpitating heart, and went on tip-toe to listen at the door of the saloon.  She heard nothing.  The clock struck half-past three.

Unable to suppress her growing terror, and clinging to a last hope, Adrienne returned towards the fireplace and rang the bell.  After which she endeavored to compose her features, so as to betray no outward sign of emotion.  In a few seconds, a gray-haired footman, dressed in black, opened the door, and waited in respectful silence for the orders of his mistress.  The latter said to him, in a calm voice, “Andrew, request Hebe to give you the smelling bottle that I left on the chimney-piece in my room, and bring it me here.”  Andrew bowed; but just as he was about to withdraw to execute Adrienne’s orders, which was only a pretext to enable her to ask a question without appearing to attach much importance to it in her servant’s eyes, already informed of the expected visit of the prince, Mdlle. de Cardoville added, with an air of indifference.  “Pray, is that clock right?”

Andrew drew out his watch, and replied as he cast his eyes upon it, “Yes, mademoiselle.  I set my watch by the Tuileries.  It is more than half past three.”

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