But he is better than an author; he is a veritable man-of-the-world." "Is not the Countess here ?" asked Dorsenne, addressing Alba Steno, and without replying any more to the action, so involuntarily insulting, of the Baron than he had to his sly malice or to the Prince's facetious offer.

Madame Steno's absence had again inspired him with an apprehension which the young girl dissipated by replying: "My mother is on the terrace....

We were afraid it was too cool for Fanny."....

It was a very simple phrase, which the Contessina uttered very simply, as she fanned herself with a large fan of white feathers.
Each wave of it stirred the meshes of her fair hair, which she wore curled upon her rather high forehead.

Julien understood her too well not to perceive that her voice, her gestures, her eyes, her entire being, betrayed a nervousness at that moment almost upon the verge of sadness.
Was she still reserved from the day before, or was she a prey to one of those inexplicable transactions, which had led Dorsenne in his meditations of the night to such strange suspicions?
Those suspicions returned to him with the feeling that, of all the persons present, Alba was the only one who seemed to be aware of the drama which undoubtedly was brewing.