"Is Angelique des
Meloises to be humiliated by that woman? Never! But my bright
dreams will have no fulfilment so long as she lives at Beaumanoir,--
so long as she lives anywhere!"
She sat still for a while, gazing into the fire; and the secret
chamber of Beaumanoir again formed itself before her vision. She
sprang up, touched by the hand of her good angel perhaps, and for
the last time. "Satan whispered it again in my ear!" cried she.
"Ste. Marie! I am not so wicked as that! Last night the thought
came to me in the dark--I shook it off at dawn of day. To-night it
comes again,--and I let it touch me like a lover, and I neither
withdraw my hand nor tremble! To-morrow it will return for the last
time and stay with me,--and I shall let it sleep on my pillow! The
babe of sin will have been born and waxed to a full demon, and I
shall yield myself up to his embraces! O Bigot, Bigot! what have
you not done? C'est la faute a vous! C'est la faute a vous!" She
repeated this exclamation several times, as if by accusing Bigot she
excused her own evil imaginings and cast the blame of them upon him.
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