While he was indulging in these transports of rage, without paying any attention to how the time was passing, evening drew on, and it was rapidly growing dark when his faithful Picard, full of commiseration, screwed up his courage to the highest point, and ventured to go softly in--though he had not been called, and was disobeying orders--to light the candles in his master's room; thinking that he was quite gloomy enough already without being left in darkness as well, and hoping that the lights might help to make him more cheerful.

They did seem to afford him some relief, in that they caused a diversion; for his thoughts, which had been all of Isabelle and her cruel repulse of his passionate entreaties, suddenly flew to his successful rival, the Baron de Sigognac.
"But how is this ?" he cried, stopping short in his rapid pacing up and down the room.

"How comes it that that miserable, degraded wretch has not been despatched before this?
I gave the most explicit orders about it to that good-for-nothing Merindol.

In spite of what Vidalinc says, I am convinced that I shall succeed with Isabelle when once that cursed lover of hers is out of my way.

She will be left entirely at my mercy then, and will have to submit to my will and pleasure with the best grace she can muster--for I shall not allow any sulking or tears.
Doubtless she clings so obstinately to that confounded brute in the belief that she can induce him to marry her in the end.