Explore "The Triumph of the Scarlet Pimpernel" by Emma Orczy on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Theresia had opposed a stern refusal to Pepita's request that she might put her mistress to bed before she herself went to rest. She did not want to go to bed: she wanted to think, and now that that peculiar air of mystery, that silence and semidarkness no longer held their gruesome sway in her apartment, she did not feel afraid.
Pepita went to bed. For awhile, Theresia could hear her moving about, with ponderous, shuffling footsteps; then, presently everything was still. The clock of old St. Roch struck three. Not much more than half an hour had gone by since her guests had been departed. To Theresia it seemed like an infinity of time. The sense of a baffling mystery being at work around her had roused her ire and killed all latent fear.