A supper-table was laid for two, in the third of the rooms; a round room, in one of the chaateau's four extinguisher-topped towers. A small lofty room, with its window wide open, and the wooden jalousie-blinds closed, so that the dark night only showed in slight horizontal lines of black, alternating with their broad lines of stone colour.
`My nephew,' said the Marquis, glancing at the supper preparation; `they said he was not arrived.'
Nor was he; but, he had been expected with Monseigneur.
`Ah! It is not probable he will arrive to-night; nevertheless,
leave the table as it is. I shall be ready in a quarter of an hour.' In a quarter of an hour Monseigneur was ready, and sat down alone to his sumptuous and choice supper. His chair was opposite to the window, and he had taken his soup, and was raising his glass of Bordeaux to his lips, when he put it down.
`What is that?' he calmly asked, looking with attention at the horizontal lines of black and stone colour'.
`Outside the blinds. Open the blinds.'
`Monseigneur, it is nothing. The trees and the night are all that are here.'