Upon entering
his own house he rushed through it like a whirlwind, shutting every
door behind him with such a violent bang that the very walls shook,
and pieces of the gilt mouldings round the panels were snapped off, and
scattered on the floor. When he reached his own room he flung down his
hat with such force that it was completely flattened, and the feather
broken short off. Then, unable to breathe freely, he tore open his
rich velvet pourpoint, as he rushed frantically to and fro, without any
regard for the superb diamond buttons that fastened it, which flew in
every direction. The exquisitely fine lace ruffles round his neck were
reduced to shreds in a second, and with a vigorous kick he knocked over
a large arm-chair that stood in his way, and left it upside down, with
its legs in the air.
"The impudent little hussy!" he cried, as he continued his frenzied
walk, like a wild beast in a cage. "I have a great mind to have her
thrown into prison, there to be well-whipped, and have her hair shaved
off, before being sent to a lunatic asylum--or better still to some
strict convent where they take in bad girls who have been forcibly
rescued from lives of infamy. I could easily manage it. But no, it would
be worse than useless--persecution would only make her hate me more, and
would not make her love that cursed de Sigognac a bit less.
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