"When she is gone, after a little time he change--ah, he change
much, he go to a table and pour out a great bowl of wine, and then
another, and he drink them both, and he begin to walk up and down
the floor. He sway now and then, but he keep on for a long time.
Once a servant come, but he wave him away, and he scowl and talk to
himself, and shut the doors and lock them. Then he walk on and on.
At last he sit down, and he face me. In front of him are candles,
and he stare between them, and stare and stare. I sit and watch,
and I feel a pity. I hear him say, 'Antoinette! Antoinette! My dear
Antoinette! We are lost forever, my Antoinette!' Then he take the
purse from his pocket, and throw it up to the balcony where I am.
'Pretty sins,' he say, 'follow the sinner!' It lie there, and it
have sprung open, and I can see the jewels shine, but I not touch
it--no. Well, he sit there long--long, and his face get gray and
his cheeks all hollow.
"I hear the clock strike one! two! three! four! Once some
one come and try the door, but go away again, and he never stir;
he is like a dead man. At last I fall asleep. When I wake up, he
still sit there, but his head lie in his arms.
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