"
I arose and lighted all the candles I could find. The room was small and
the illumination brilliant. At the same time a bright fire threw out a
stifling heat.
"Come," I said, "what shall we do while waiting until it is time for
supper?"
I happened to remember that it was carnival time in Paris. I seemed to
see the carriages filled with masks crossing the boulevards. I heard the
shouts of the crowds before the theaters; I saw the lascivious dances,
the gay costumes, the wine and the folly; all of my youth bounded in my
heart.
"Let us disguise ourselves," I said to Brigitte. "It will be for us
alone, but what does that matter? If you have no costumes we can make
them, and pass away the time agreeably."
We searched in the closet for dresses, cloaks, and artificial flowers;
Brigitte as usual, was patient and cheerful. We both arranged a sort of
travesty; she wanted to dress my hair herself; we painted and powdered
ourselves freely; all that we lacked was found in an old chest that
belonged, I believe, to the aunt. In an hour we could not recognize each
other. The evening passed in singing, in a thousand follies; toward one
in the morning it was time for supper.
We had ransacked all the closets; there was one near me that remained
open. While sitting down at the table, I perceived on a shelf the book of
which I have already spoken, the one in which Brigitte was accustomed to
write.
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