Her face was stained with hard clots of blood as she rose, cramped
and chilled to the bone. The night air had blown coldly upon her
through the open lattice; but she would not summon her maid to her
assistance. Without undressing she threw herself upon a couch, and
utterly worn out by the agitation she had undergone, slept far into
the day.
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE HURRIED QUESTION OF DESPAIR.
Le Gardeur plunged headlong down the silent street, neither knowing
nor caring whither. Half mad with grief, half with resentment, he
vented curses upon himself, upon Angelique, upon the world, and
looked upon Providence itself as in league with the evil powers to
thwart his happiness,--not seeing that his happiness in the love of
a woman like Angelique was a house built on sand, which the first
storm of life would sweep away.
"Holla! Le Gardeur de Repentigny! Is that you?" exclaimed a voice
in the night. "What lucky wind blows you out at this hour?" Le
Gardeur stopped and recognized the Chevalier de Pean. "Where are
you going in such a desperate hurry?"
"To the devil!" replied Le Gardeur, withdrawing his hand from De
Pean's, who had seized it with an amazing show of friendship.
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