down was visible on his chin, though a little delicate pencilling darkened his upper lip:  His slightly effeminate style of beauty, the graceful curves of his figure, his expression, sometimes coaxing, sometimes saucy, reminding one of a page, gave him the appearance of a charming young scapegrace destined to inspire sudden passions and wayward fancies.  While his pretended uncle was making himself at home most unceremoniously, Quennebert remarked that the chevalier at once began to lay siege to his fair hostess, bestowing tender and love-laden glances on her behind that uncle’s back.  This redoubled his curiosity.

“My dear girl,” said the commander, “since I saw you last I have come into a fortune of one hundred thousand livres, neither more nor less.  One of my dear aunts took it into her head to depart this life, and her temper being crotchety and spiteful she made me her sole heir, in order to enrage those of her relatives who had nursed her in her illness.  One hundred thousand livres!  It’s a round sum—­enough to cut a great figure with for two years.  If you like, we shall squander it together, capital and interest.  Why do you not speak?  Has anyone else robbed me by any chance of your heart?  If that were so, I should be in despair, upon my word-for the sake of the fortunate individual who had won your favour; for I will brook no rivals, I give you fair warning.”

“Monsieur le commandeur,” answered Angelique, “you forget, in speaking to me in that manner, I have never given you any right to control my actions.”

“Have we severed our connection?”

At this singular question Angelique started, but de Jars continued—­

“When last we parted we were on the best of terms, were we not?  I know that some months have elapsed since then, but I have explained to you the reason of my absence.  Before filling up the blank left by the departed we must give ourselves space to mourn.  Well, was I right in my guess?  Have you given me a successor?”

Mademoiselle de Guerchi had hitherto succeeded in controlling her indignation, and had tried to force herself to drink the bitter cup of humiliation to the dregs; but now she could bear it no longer.  Having thrown a look expressive of her suffering at the young chevalier, who continued to ogle her with great pertinacity, she decided on bursting into tears, and in a voice broken by sobs she exclaimed that she was miserable at being treated in this manner, that she did not deserve it, and that Heaven was punishing her for her error in yielding to the entreaties of the commander.  One would have sworn she was sincere and that the words came from her heart.  If Maitre Quennebert had not witnessed the scene with Jeannin, if he had not known how frail was the virtue of the weeping damsel, he might have been affected by her touching plaint.  The chevalier appeared to be deeply moved by Angelique’s grief, and while his, uncle was striding up and down the room and swearing like a trooper, he gradually approached her and expressed by signs the compassion he felt.