When he had vanished Emile walked to the window, and threw open the now
useless shutters. He guessed instinctively that Arithelli needed more
air, and he had himself begun to find the temperature almost
unbearable, for the building was lofty, and the room they were in near
the roof. He rested his folded arms upon the sill and leaned his head
and shoulders far out.
The house stood at a corner, and while the side of it was in a small
street, the front overlooked one of the many wide and beautiful
_paseos_, with which the city abounded.
A little breeze borne of the incoming tide in the harbour came sweeping
along, and its coolness stirred him into fresh vitality.
It was the hour of pleasure, when the inhabitants threw off their
sun-begotten sloth and thronged the _cafes_ and public gardens and
promenades.
On the Rambla, once the bed of a river, the military bands played waltz
music, and the favourite operas, and hot blood moved faster to the
unfailing enchantment of the Habernera, and the newest works of
Massenet and Charpentier.
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