His sardonic lips, his
pointed chin aggressively pushed forward, presented the characteristic
signs of a malignant spirit, a sagacity coldly cruel, that would
surely enable him to divine all because he suspected everything. His
yellow forehead was wrinkled like those of men whose habit it is to
believe nothing, to weigh all things, and who, like misers chinking
their gold, search out the meaning and the value of human actions. His
bodily frame, though deformed, was bony and solid, and seemed both
vigorous and excitable; in short, you might have thought him a stunted
ogre. Consequently, an inevitable danger awaited the young lady
whenever this terrible seigneur woke. That jealous husband would
surely not fail to see the difference between a worthy old burgher who
gave him no umbrage, and the new-comer, young, slender, and elegant.
"Libera nos a malo," she said, endeavoring to make the young man
comprehend her fears.
The latter raised his head and looked at her. Tears were in his eyes;
tears of love and of despair. At sight of them the lady trembled and
betrayed herself.
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