Camors imagined he could distinguish her gentle breathing above the sound of the fan; and leaning eagerly forward for a better view, he caused the leaves to rustle slightly.

She started at the sound, then remained immovable, and the fixed position of her head showed that her gaze was fastened upon the oak in which he was concealed.
He felt the awkwardness of his position, but could not judge whether or not he was visible to her; but, under the danger of her fixed regard, he passed the most painful moments of his life.
She turned into the room and said, in a calm voice, a few words which brought three or four of her friends to the window; and among them Camors recognized the old man with the violin.
The moment was a trying one.

He could do nothing but lie still in his leafy retreat--silent and immovable as a statue.

The conduct of those at the window went far to reassure him, for their eyes wandered over the gloom with evident uncertainty, convincing him that his presence was only suspected, not discovered.

But they exchanged animated observations, to which the hidden Count lent an attentive ear.
Suddenly a strong voice--which he recognized as belonging to him of the violin-rose over them all in the pleasing order: "Loose the dog!" This was sufficient for Camors.