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When Rodin had left the room, Adrienne, approaching the soldier, said to him, in her mild voice, with an expression of deep interest, "Your sudden entry prevented my asking you a question that greatly concerns me. How is your wound?" "Thank you, madame," said Dagobert, starting from his painful lethargy, "it is of no consequence, but I have not time to think of it.
But Rose-Pompon, having recovered her good-nature, found it very difficult to continue the scene in question, particularly as, for many reasons, she felt overawed by Adrienne.
Thus the Marquis d'Aigrigny had idolized his mother; dying, she called him to her and he turned away from the last prayer of a parent in the agony of death. After such an example, how could M. Baleinier hesitate to sacrifice Adrienne?
The emotions which agitated she heart of Adrienne, became so violent, that her fine face was flushed with a bright red, her bosom heaved, and her large, black eyes, lately dimmed by sadness, once more shone with a mild radiance. She waited with inexpressible impatience for what was to follow.
Perhaps Madame de Morinval would have remarked the expression of bitter irony, that Adrienne could not altogether dissemble, if suddenly a hoarse and prolonged roar had net attracted her attention, as well as that of the rest of the audience, who had hitherto been quite indifferent to the scenes intended for an introduction to the appearance of Morok.
"Fell, but what are they?" "Why," said the worthy dame, with a sort of embarrassment and confusion, which showed how much she was shocked by such enormities, "they say, that Mademoiselle Adrienne never sets foot in a church, but lives in a kind of heathen temple in her aunt's garden, where she has masked women to dress her up like a goddess, and scratches them very often, because she gets tipsy without mentioning, that every night she plays on a hunting horn of massive gold all which causes the utmost grief and despair to her poor aunt the princess."
These new incidents had augmented the bitter resentment of Adrienne against the Princess de Saint Dizier, Father d'Aigrigny, and their creatures.
Instead of answering, M. de Montbron appeared still more absorbed in thought, and contemplating the young girl, he could not forbear saying to himself: "No, no it is impossible and yet " "It would, perhaps, be indiscreet in me to listen to your soliloquy, my dear count," said Adrienne. "Excuse me, my dear child; but what I see surprises me so much " "And pray what do you see?"
She felt no astonishment at hearing the name Adrienne spoken suddenly and unreflectingly by Guy de Lissac. She looked at him with a glance that reached his soul, not knowing what she said: "Leave now! While the ball is in progress. To leave solitude to him, suddenly here! And that woman, if he wishes her, and if the other who is marrying her will yield her to him!"
"Not even Adrienne," added a faint, trembling voice from within. But Sulpice had a ready answer to stifle it: Adrienne could not be compared with any creature in the world. Adrienne was the charm, the daily comfort of the domestic hearth. She was the wife, not the "woman." She was the darling, not the love.
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