She was agitated beyond her wont, for she loved Le Gardeur with a
strange, selfish passion, for her own sake, not for his,--a sort of
love not uncommon with either sex. She had the frankness to be half
ashamed of it, for she knew the wrong she was doing to one of the
most noble and faithful hearts in the world. But the arrival of the
Intendant had unsettled every good resolution she had once made to
marry Le Gardeur de Repentigny and become a reputable matron in
society. Her ambitious fantasies dimmed every perception of duty to
her own heart as well as his; and she had worked herself into that
unenviable frame of mind which possesses a woman who cannot resolve
either to consent or deny, to accept her lover or to let him go.
The solitude of her apartment became insupportable to her. She
sprang up, opened the window, and sat down in the balcony outside,
trying to find composure by looking down into the dark, still
street. The voices of two men engaged in eager conversation reached
her ear. They sat upon the broad steps of the house, so that every
word they spoke reached her ear, although she could scarcely
distinguish them in the darkness.
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