"I beg your pardon, mademoiselle," said Herode, with a furtive glance
at the duke, "for interrupting you. I did not know that you were in such
good company; but the hour for rehearsal has struck, and we are only
waiting for you to begin."
He had left the door ajar, and an apparently waiting group could be
discerned without, consisting of the pedant, Scapin, Leander, and
Zerbine; a reassuring and most welcome sight to poor Isabelle. For one
instant the duke, in his rage, was tempted to draw his sword, make a
furious charge upon the intruding canaille, and disperse them "vi et
armis"--but a second thought stayed his hand, as he realized that the
killing or wounding of two or three of these miserable actors would not
further his suit; and besides, he could not stain his noble hands with
such vile blood as theirs. So he put force upon himself and restrained
his rage, and, bowing with icy politeness to Isabelle, who, trembling in
every limb, had edged nearer to her friends, he made his way out of the
room; turning, however, at the threshold to say, with peculiar emphasis,
"Au revoir, mademoiselle!"--a very simple phrase certainly, but replete
with significance of a very terrible and threatening nature from the way
in which it was spoken.
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