She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it. Only I’m so incensed with that crazy fool Gerald that—oh, well, never mind. ‘Ah, yes,’ Gerald said, jumping down from the coach and waiting for the fellow to let down the steps for Melusine, ‘I had forgotten about you. “You’ll be there, right?” She asked, hearing his breathing audibly jump. Courtlaw sat with folded arms. “I’ve had most of the things I wanted,” said Ramage, in the stillness of the night. There must be real Valjeans, else how could authors write about them? Supposing some day she met one of these astonishing creators, who could make one cry and laugh and forget, who could thrill one with love and anger and tenderness? Most of us have witnessed carnivals.
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