She had given up her whole fete-day to wait on the anguish and to soothe the solitude of his friend lying dying there; and her reward had been to hear him speak of this aristocrat's donations, that cost her nothing but the trouble of a few words of command to her household, as though they were the saintly charities of some angel from heaven! "Diantre!" she muttered, as her hand wandered to the ever-beloved forms of the pistols within her sash.

"Any of them would throw a draught of wine in his face, and lay him dead for me with a pass or two ten minutes after.

Why don't I bid them?
I have a mind----" In that moment she could have shot him dead herself without a moment's thought.

Storm and sunlight swept, one after another, with electrical rapidity at all times, through her vivid, changeful temper; and here she had been wounded and been stung in the very hour in which she had subdued her national love of mirth, and her childlike passion for show, and her impatience of all confinement, and her hatred of all things mournful, in the attainment of this self-negation! Moreover, there mingled with it the fierce and intolerant heat of the passionate and scarce-conscious jealousy of an utterly untamed nature, and of Gallic blood, quick and hot as the steaming springs of the Geyser.
"You have vexed her, Victor," said Leon Ramon, as she was lost to sight through the doors of the great, desolate chamber.
"I hope not; I do not know how," answered Cecil.

"It is impossible to follow the windings of her wayward caprices.