my poor child, whom we were obliged to confine as
mad, in order to give a decent color to your excesses. You remember the
handsome lad, that we found in your apartment. You cannot be so
faithless, as already to have forgotten his name? He was a fine, youth,
and a poet--one Agricola Baudoin--and was discovered in a secret place,
attached to your bed-chamber. All Paris was amused with the scandal--for
you are not about to marry an unknown person, dear prince; her name has
been in every mouth."

At these unexpected and dreadful words, Adrienne, Djalma, and Mother
Bunch, though under the influence of different kinds of resentment,
remained for a moment mute with surprise; and the princess, judging it no
longer necessary to repress her infernal joy and triumphant hatred,
exclaimed, as she rose from her seat, with flushed cheek, and flashing
eyes, "Yes, I defy you to contradict me. Were we not forced to confine
you, on the plea of madness? And did we not find a workman (your lover)
concealed in your bedroom?"

On this horrible accusation, Djalma's golden complexion, transparent as
amber, became suddenly the color of lead; his eyes, fixed and staring
showed the white round the pupil--his upper lip, red as blood, was curled
in a kind of wild convulsion, which exposed to view the firmly-set
teeth--and his whole countenance became so frightfully threatening and
ferocious, that Mother Bunch shuddered with terror. Carried away by the
ardor of his blood, the young Oriental felt a sort of dizzy,
unreflecting, involuntary rage--a fiery commotion, like that which makes
the blood leap to the brave man's eyes and brain, when he feels a blow
upon his face. If, during that moment, rapid as the passage of the
lightning through the cloud, action could have taken the place of
thought, the princess and Adrienne, Mother Bunch and himself, would all
have been annihilated by an explosion as sudden and fatal as that of the
bursting of a mine. He would have killed the princess, because she
accused Adrienne of infamous deception he would have killed Adrienne,
because she could even be suspected of such infamy--and Mother Bunch, for
being a witness of the accusation--and himself, in order not to survive
such horrid treachery. But, oh wonder! his furious and bloodshot gaze met
the calm look of Adrienne--a look so full of dignity and serene
confidence--and the expression of ferocious rage passed away like a flash
of lightning.

Much more: to the gre