The music confused and distracted her, and made her struggle against a feeling of intoxication. She walked for a mile or more recklessly, close veiled, with swift level footsteps, though her brain was in a whirl and a horrible faintness all the time hovered about her. The comtesse always felt Madame Valade to be not of her class, of course. In a convent, you understand, one is like a servant, even if one is a lady. ‘Else she would not have married that ne’er-do-well only because Jarvis proposed him to her. She whipped round suddenly, and discovered the woman wedged into the corner by the window, keeping out of the way.
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