"He went
away more angry than I had ever seen him before. He is incensed
with me; and who knows how long it will be before he comes again?"
Still she waited, with feverish anxiety, listening breathlessly to
every sound in the street, and trembling each time she heard or
fancied she heard a carriage stop at the door. However, at two
o'clock in the morning the baron had not made his appearance. "It
is too late--he won't come!" she murmured.
But now her sufferings were less intolerable, for excess of
wretchedness had deadened her sensibility. Utter prostration
paralyzed her energies and benumbed her mind. Ruin seemed so
inevitable that she no longer thought of avoiding it; she awaited
it with that blind resignation displayed by Spanish women, who,
when they hear the roll of thunder, fall upon their knees,
convinced that lightning is about to strike their defenceless
heads. She tottered to her room, flung herself on the bed, and
instantly fell asleep. Yes, she slept the heavy, leaden slumber
which always follows a great mental crisis, and which falls like
God's blessing upon a tortured mind. On waking up, her first act
was to ring for her maid, in order to send a message to Job, to go
out again in search of the baron. But the faithful servant had
divined his mistress's wishes, and had already started off of his
own accord.
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