Adieu; go--go, I say."
These words, said volubly with a mingling of coquetry, despotism, and
passion, showed she had entirely recovered her self-possession. Sleep
had no doubt classified the impressions of the preceding day, and
reflection had determined her on vengeance. If a few reluctant signs
appeared on her face they only proved the ease with which certain
women can bury the better feelings of their souls, and the cruel
dissimulation which enables them to smile sweetly while planning the
destruction of a victim. She sat alone after Corentin had left her,
thinking how she could get the marquis still living into her toils.
For the first time in her life this woman had lived according to her
inmost desires; but of that life nothing remained but one craving,
--that of vengeance,--vengeance complete and infinite. It was her one
thought, her sole desire. Francine's words and attentions were
unnoticed. Marie seemed to be sleeping with her eyes open; and the
long day passed without an action or even a gesture that bore
testimony to her thoughts. She lay on a couch which she had made of
chairs and pillows. It was late in the evening when a few words
escaped her, as if involuntarily.
"My child," she said to Francine, "I understood yesterday what it was
to live for love; to-day I know what it means to die for vengeance.
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