She had regarded him as
her own humble vassal--for she had not failed to read the passionate
admiration in his eyes whenever they met her own--and could not brook
his shaking off his allegiance thus; her slaves ought to live and die in
her service, even though their fidelity were never rewarded by a single
smile. She watched them, with a frowning brow, until they disappeared,
and then sought her conch in anything but a tranquil mood, haunted by
the lover-like pair that had so roused her wrath, and still kept her
long awake.
De Sigognac escorted Isabelle to the door of her chamber, where he bade
her good-night, and as he turned away towards his own, saw, at the end
of the corridor, a mysterious looking individual closely wrapped in a
large cloak, with one end thrown over the shoulder in Spanish fashion,
and so drawn up round his face that only the eyes were visible; a slouch
hat concealed his forehead, so that he was completely disguised, yet he
drew back hurriedly into a dark corner when de Sigognac turned towards
him, as if to avoid his notice. The baron knew that the comedians had
all gone to their rooms already, and besides, it could not be one of
them, for the tyrant was much larger and taller, the pedant a great
deal stouter, Leander more slender, Matamore much thinner, and Scapin of
quite a different make.
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