You have opened your heart to her after pledging it to me!
If I was the pearl of price, you have adorned her with it--my
abasement is her glory!" Angelique's tall, straight figure stood
up, magnified with fury as she uttered this.
The Intendant stepped back in surprise at the sudden attack. Had
the blow fallen upon his face, such is human nature, Bigot would
have regarded it as an unpardonable insult, but falling upon his
breast, he burst out in a loud laugh as he caught hold of her
quivering hand, which she plucked passionately away from him.
The eyes of Angelique looked dangerous and full of mischief, but
Bigot was not afraid or offended. In truth, her jealousy flattered
him, applying it wholly to himself. He was, moreover, a connoisseur
in female temper: he liked to see the storm of jealous rage, to
watch the rising of its black clouds, to witness the lightning and
the thunder, the gusts and whirlwinds of passion, followed by the
rain of angry tears, when the tears were on his account. He thought
he had never seen so beautiful a fury as Angelique was at that
moment.
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