He pushed the button in a panic of apprehension. Presently the maid appeared.
Where is Mrs. Sartoris? It was vain to attempt to control his voice: it vibrated with anxiety.
She's gone out.
When is she coming back?
She didn't say, the maid replied, and Byron was aware that she spoke with a new and not entirely respectful manner.
Will you have your coffee now? she inquired.
Please.
Byron closed the window, shutting out the chill air, but he left the curtains open. Bright, April sunshine flooded the room. In the bath he found the water too warm. Its tepidity irritated his nerves. Releasing the cold stream, he felt relieved as it stung his aching flesh. When, stepping out of the tub, he towelled himself, his body had become numb. No tingling, just a dead emptiness without sensation that extended to his very toes. While he was dressing an incident occurred which shattered him completely. For the first time in his life he drew the left shoe on the right foot. Aware of what this portent threatened, he tremblingly altered this condition.
He was adjusting his cravat when Marie appeared with the tray.
Just set it down, he said, adding, I'm going out. If Mrs. Sartoris returns, tell her that I'll be back soon.
