"You can go, now," the duke replied, laying his hand on the door; "I
will announce myself."
Isabelle was sitting by the window, diligently studying her part in a
new play to be shortly put in rehearsal, and, at the moment the Duke of
Vallombreuse softly entered her chamber, was repeating, in a low voice
and with closed eyes, the verses she was learning by heart--just as a
child does its lessons. The light from the window shone full upon her
beautiful head and face--seen in profile--and her lovely figure, thrown
back in a negligent attitude full of grace and abandon. She made a most
bewitching picture thus, and with a delicious effect of chiaroscuro that
would have enchanted an artist--it enthralled the young duke.
Supposing that the intruder who entered so quietly was only the
chambermaid, come to perform some forgotten duty, Isabelle did not
interrupt her study or look up, but went on composedly with her
recitation. The duke, who had breathlessly advanced to the centre of the
room, paused there, and stood motionless, gazing with rapture upon her
beauty. As he waited for her to open her eyes and become aware of his
presence, he sank gracefully down upon one knee, holding his hat so that
its long plume swept the floor, and laying his hand on his heart, in an
attitude that was slightly theatrical perhaps, but as respectful as
if he had been kneeling before a queen.
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