Throwing aside all restraint, he advanced towards her impetuously--whereat she made another desperate effort to tear open the casement.

A fierce frown contracted his brow, he gnawed his under lip savagely, and his whole face was transformed--if it had been beautiful enough for an angel's before, it was like a demon's now.
"Why don't you tell the truth," he cried, in a loud, angry voice, "and say that you are madly in love with that precious rascal, de Sigognac?
THAT is the real reason for all this pretended virtue that you shamelessly flaunt in men's faces.

What is there about that cursed scoundrel, I should like to know, that charms you so?
Am I not handsomer, of higher rank, younger, richer, as clever, and as much in love with you as he can possibly be?
aye, and more--ten thousand times more." "He has at least one quality that you are lacking in, my lord," said Isabelle, with dignity; "he knows how to respect the woman he loves." "That's only because he cares so little about you, my charmer!" cried Vallombreuse, suddenly seizing Isabelle, who vainly strove to escape from him, in his arms, and straining her violently to his breast--despite her frantic struggles, and agonized cry for help.

As if in response to it, the door was suddenly opened, and the tyrant, making the most deprecating gestures and profound bows, entered the room and advanced towards Isabelle, who was at once released by Vallombreuse, with muttered curses at this most inopportune intrusion.
"I beg your pardon, mademoiselle," said Herode, with a furtive glance at the duke, "for interrupting you.

I did not know that you were in such good company; but the hour for rehearsal has struck, and we are only waiting for you to begin." He had left the door ajar, and an apparently waiting group could be discerned without, consisting of the pedant, Scapin, Leander, and Zerbine; a reassuring and most welcome sight to poor Isabelle.