He saw that she was tense. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. The clever hostess having let fall that several distinguished guests from France would be present, the world had flocked to her doors to catch, like the gossip-hungry vultures they were, a glimpse of them. The note-passer lagged behind with her. She got up, as she had been told to do, at his appearance, and he amazed her by sitting down, according to custom, on her stool. There you will be, in an inner temple.
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