Her happy reverie was troubled only by the presence of a bat, flitting incessantly from one end of the terrace to the other, flapping its wings about her head.

The loathsome creature seemed to be especially in quest of her, circling around and above her with obstinate persistency, even venturing to graze her hair in passing; Antoinette even fancied that she could distinguish its hideous face, with deep pouches and long ears, and she moved away, quivering with disgust.
She heard a step on the gravel-walk.

Samuel Brohl had taken leave of M.Moriaz and was crossing the terrace to regain his carriage.

He recognised Antoinette, approached her and clasped on her wrist a bracelet he held in his hand, saying as he did so: "What could I give you that would equal in value the medallion you deigned to offer me and that should never leave me?
However, here is a trinket by which I set great store.

My mother loved it; she always refused to part with it, even in the time of her greatest distress; she wore it on her arm when she died." We are not all moulded alike; and there is no human clay in which are not intermingled some spangles of gold.