"Nonsense, we are friends.

You are my General; she is your niece." His eyes followed Elise as she set out for them some cider, a small flask of cognac, and some seed-cakes; luxuries which were served but once a year in this house, as in most homes of Pontiac.
For a long time Valmond and his General talked, devised, planned, schemed, till the old man grew husky and pale.

The sight of his senile weariness flashed the irony of the whole wild dream into Valmond's mind.
He rose, and, giving his arm, led Lagroin to his bedroom, and bade him good-night.

When he returned to the room, it was empty.
He looked around, and, seeing an open door, moved to it quickly.

It led into a little stairway.
He remembered then that there was a room which had been, apparently, tacked on, like an after-thought, to the end of the house.