He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him. Even the stars were strangers. "And, may I be cursed if I ever did anything in my whole life which gave me so much satisfaction. Her eye wandered quickly over that riotous and disorderly assemblage, until it settled upon one group more riotous and disorderly than the rest, of which her son formed the principal figure. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. She remained standing stiffly, unable even to move. "What has put it into your head that your son yet lives?" he asked. It is what I have done.
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