At these words the poet gave a cry like some enraged beast; he reeled, and would have fallen had the table not been near. He sat down on the edge of it, supporting himself with his hands, completely frozen as if from a great chill. Louise, overcome with shame, sat in the armchair, hiding her face in her hands while great tears rolled down between the fingers of her ragged gloves. ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: Good form consists, above all things, in keeping silent Intimate friend, whom he has known for about five minutes My good fellow, you are quite worthless as a man of pleasure Society people condemned to hypocrisy and falsehood