And as he thus dressed an imaginary manikin, hanging ropes of heavy stones, purplish or milky crystals, cloudy uncut gems, over the slashed corsage, a woman slipped in, filled the robe, swelled the bodice, and thrust her head under the two-horned steeple-headdress.

From behind the pendent lace smiled the composite features of the unknown and of Mme.

Chantelouve.
Delighted, he gazed at the apparition without ever perceiving whom he had evoked, when his cat, jumping into his lap, distracted his thoughts and brought him back to his room.
"Well, well, she won't let me alone," and in spite of himself he began to laugh at the thought of the unknown following him even to the chateau de Tiffauges.

"It's foolish to let my thoughts wander this way," he said, drawing himself up, "but daydream is the only good thing in life.
Everything else is vulgar and empty.
"No doubt about it, that was a singular epoch, the Middle Epoch of ignorance and darkness, the history professors and Ages," he went on, lighting a cigarette.

"For some it's all white and for others utterly black.