No one
but Isabelle had the slightest idea of the reason of Captain Fracasse's
unwonted fury--but she saw at once who was looking on, and knowing how
sensitive he was, realized the effect it must infallibly produce upon
him. She furtively watched the proud beauty as she modestly played her
own part, and thought, not without a keen pang through her faithful,
loving heart, that here would be a worthy mate for the Baron de
Sigognac, when he had succeeded in re-establishing the lost splendour of
his house. As to the poor young nobleman, he resolved not to glance once
again at Yolande, lest he should be seized by a sudden transport of rage
and do something utterly rash and disgraceful, but kept his eyes fixed,
whenever he could, upon his sweet, lovely Isabelle. The sight of her
dear face was balm to his wounded spirit--her love, of which he was now
so blissfully sure, consoled him for the openly manifested scorn of the
other, and from her he drew strength to go on bravely with his detested
part.
It was over at last--the piece was finished--and when de Sigognac tore
off his mask, like a man who is suffocating, his companions were alarmed
at his altered looks. He was fairly livid, and let himself fall upon a
bench standing near like a lifeless body.
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