Otherwise she was not ill at ease.

Alvan summoned his gaiety, all his homeliness of tone, to give her composure, and on her quitting the room she was more than ever bound to him, despite her gloomy foreboding.

A maid of her household, a middle-aged woman, gabbling of devotion to her, ran up the steps of the hotel.

Her tale was, that the General had roused the city in pursuit of his daughter; and she heard whither Clotilde was going.
Within half an hour, Clotilde was in Madame Emerly's drawing-room relating her desperate history of love and parental tyranny, assisted by the lover whom she had introduced.

Her hostess promised shelter and exhibited sympathy.