"You may as well go, for your long face already attracts attention.Tell master we must wait for the upshot."
The above incident was scarcely perceived in the midst of the growing tumult of the joyous feast.But, among the guests, one alone laughed not, drank not.This was Jacques.With fixed and lurid eye, he gazed upon vacancy.A stranger to what was passing around him, the unhappy man thought of the Bacchanal Queen, who had been so gay and brilliant in the midst of similar saturnalia.The remembrance of that one being, whom he still loved with an extravagant love, was the only thought that from time to time roused him from his besotted state.
It is strange, but Jacques had only consented to join this masquerade because the mad scene reminded him of the merry day he had spent with Cephyse--that famous breakfast, after a night of dancing, in which the Bacchanal Queen, from some extraordinary presentiment, had proposed a lugubrious toast with regard to this very pestilence, which was then reported to be approaching France."To the Cholera!" had she said."Let him spare those who wish to live, and kill at the same moment those who dread to part!"
And now, at this time, remembering those mournful words, Jacques was absorbed in painful thought.Morok perceived his absence of mind, and said aloud to him, "You have given over drinking, Jacques.Have you had enough wine? Then you will want brandy.I will send for some."
"I want neither wine nor brandy," answered Jacques, abruptly, and he fell back into a sombre reverie.