"
She looked at de Montauran fixedly; then, delighted to be attacked by
the man whose life she held in her hands, she said in a low voice,
smiling softly: "Your head is a very poor one; the executioner does
not want it; I shall keep it myself."
The marquis looked at the inexplicable girl, whose love had overcome
all, even insult, and who now avenged herself by forgiving that which
women are said never to forgive. His eyes grew less stern, less cold;
a look of sadness came upon his face. His love was stronger than he
suspected. Mademoiselle de Verneuil, satisfied with these faint signs
of a desired reconciliation, glanced at him tenderly, with a smile
that was like a kiss; then she leaned back once more in the carriage,
determined not to risk the future of this happy drama, believing she
had assured it with her smile. She was so beautiful! She knew so well
how to conquer all obstacles to love! She was so accustomed to take
all risks and push on at all hazards! She loved the unexpected, and
the tumults of life--why should she fear?
Before long the carriage, under the young chief's directions, left the
highway and took a road cut between banks planted with apple-trees,
more like a ditch than a roadway, which led to La Vivetiere. The
carriage now advanced rapidly, leaving the escort to follow slowly
towards the manor-house, the gray roofs of which appeared and
disappeared among the trees.
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