"It is dreadful to let Conti ride over me roughshod; and yet I can't
defend myself," said Beatrix, in a low voice. "The galley-slave is
always a slave to his chain-companion. I am lost; I must needs return
to my galleys! And it is you, Camille, who have cast me there! Ah! you
brought him back a day too soon, or a day too late. I recognize your
infernal talent as author. Well, your revenge is complete, the finale
perfect!"
"I may have told you that I would write to Conti, but to do it was
another matter," cried Camille. "I am incapable of such baseness. But
you are unhappy, and I will forgive the suspicion."
"What will become of Calyste?" said the marquise, with naive
self-conceit.
"Then Conti carries you off, does he?" asked Camille.
"Ah! you think you triumph!" cried Beatrix.
Anger distorted her handsome face as she said those bitter words to
Camille, who was trying to hide her satisfaction under a false
expression of sympathy. Unfortunately, the sparkle in her eyes belied
the sadness of her face, and Beatrix was learned in such deceptions.
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