BOOK SEVENTH.
CHAPTER 8. THE UTILITY OF WINDOWS WHICH OPEN ON THE RIVER.
(continued)
But Dom Claude saw everything. The door was made of
thoroughly rotten cask staves, which left large apertures for
the passage of his hawklike gaze. This brown-skinned, broad-
shouldered priest, hitherto condemned to the austere virginity
of the cloister, was quivering and boiling in the presence of
this night scene of love and voluptuousness. This young and
beautiful girl given over in disarray to the ardent young man,
made melted lead flow in his-veins; his eyes darted with
sensual jealousy beneath all those loosened pins. Any one who
could, at that moment, have seen the face of the unhappy man
glued to the wormeaten bars, would have thought that he
beheld the face of a tiger glaring from the depths of a cage
at some jackal devouring a gazelle. His eye shone like a
candle through the cracks of the door.
All at once, Phoebus, with a rapid gesture, removed the
gypsy's gorgerette. The poor child, who had remained pale
and dreamy, awoke with a start; she recoiled hastily from the
enterprising officer, and, casting a glance at her bare neck
and shoulders, red, confused, mute with shame, she crossed
her two beautiful arms on her breast to conceal it. Had it
not been for the flame which burned in her cheeks, at the
sight of her so silent and motionless, one would have.
declared her a statue of Modesty. Her eyes were lowered.
But the captain's gesture had revealed the mysterious amulet
which she wore about her neck.
"What is that?" he said, seizing this pretext to approach
once more the beautiful creature whom he had just alarmed.
"Don't touch it!" she replied, quickly, "'tis my guardian.
It will make me find my family again, if I remain worthy
to do so. Oh, leave me, monsieur le capitaine! My mother!
My poor mother! My mother! Where art thou? Come to
my rescue! Have pity, Monsieur Phoebus, give me back my
gorgerette!"
Phoebus retreated amid said in a cold tone,--
"Oh, mademoiselle! I see plainly that you do not love me!"
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