s own room he flung down his
hat with such force that it was completely flattened, and the feather
broken short off. Then, unable to breathe freely, he tore open his
rich velvet pourpoint, as he rushed frantically to and fro, without any
regard for the superb diamond buttons that fastened it, which flew in
every direction. The exquisitely fine lace ruffles round his neck were
reduced to shreds in a second, and with a vigorous kick he knocked over
a large arm-chair that stood in his way, and left it upside down, with
its legs in the air.

"The impudent little hussy!" he cried, as he continued his frenzied
walk, like a wild beast in a cage. "I have a great mind to have her
thrown into prison, there to be well-whipped, and have her hair shaved
off, before being sent to a lunatic asylum--or better still to some
strict convent where they take in bad girls who have been forcibly
rescued from lives of infamy. I could easily manage it. But no, it would
be worse than useless--persecution would only make her hate me more, and
would not make her love that cursed de Sigognac a bit less. How can I
punish her? what on earth shall I do?" and still he paced restlessly to
and fro, cursing and swearing, and raving like a madman. 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 t