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Before Gwynplaine could utter an exclamation of surprise, he heard the
thin voice of the page, at once childlike and feminine in its tone,
saying to him,--
"At this hour to-morrow, be at the corner of London Bridge. I will be
there to conduct you--"
"
Whither?" demanded Gwynplaine.
Where you are expected."
"
Gwynplaine dropped his eyes on the letter, which he was holding
mechanically in his hand.
When he looked up the page was no longer with him.
He perceived a vague form lessening rapidly in the distance. It was the
little valet. He turned the corner of the street, and solitude reigned
again.
Gwynplaine saw the page vanish, then looked at the letter. There are
moments in our lives when what happens seems not to happen. Stupor keeps
us for a moment at a distance from the fact.
Gwynplaine raised the letter to his eyes, as if to read it, but soon
perceived that he could not do so for two reasons--first, because he had
not broken the seal; and, secondly, because it was too dark.
553
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