It struck Lizette with a sort
of awe, so that, for once, she did not dare to accost her young
mistress with her usual freedom. The maid opened the door and
closed it again without offering a word, waiting in the anteroom
until a summons should come from her mistress.
Lizette observed that she had thrown herself into a fauteuil, after
hastily casting off her mantle, which lay at her feet. Her long
hair hung loose over her shoulders as it parted from all its combs
and fastenings. She held her hands clasped hard across her
forehead, and stared with fixed eyes upon the fire which burned low
on the hearth, flickering in the depths of the antique fireplace,
and occasionally sending a flash through the room which lit up the
pictures on the wall, seeming to give them life and movement, as if
they, too, would gladly have tempted Angelique to better thoughts.
But she noticed them not, and would not at that moment have endured
to look at them.
Angelique had forbidden the lamps to be lighted: it suited her mood
to sit in the half-obscure room, and in truth her thoughts were hard
and cruel, fit only to be brooded over in darkness and alone.
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