His admiration flattered
her pride. His love, for she knew infallibly, with a woman's
instinct, that he loved her, touched her into a tenderness such as
she felt for no man besides. It was the nearest approach to love
her nature was capable of, and she used to listen to him with more
than complacency, while she let her hand linger in his warm clasp
while the electric fire passed from one to another and she looked
into his eyes, and spoke to him in those sweet undertones that win
man's hearts to woman's purposes.
She believed she loved Le Gardeur; but there was no depth in the
soil where a devoted passion could take firm root. Still she was a
woman keenly alive to admiration, jealous and exacting of her
suitors, never willingly letting one loose from her bonds, and with
warm passions and a cold heart was eager for the semblance of love,
although never feeling its divine reality.
The idea of a union with Le Gardeur some day, when she should tire
of the whirl of fashion, had been a pleasant fancy of Angelique.
She had no fear of losing her power over him: she held him by the
very heart-strings, and she knew it.
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