She looked lovely in the moonlight. Her dark wavy hair, her exquisite eyes, sparkling like diamonds with the reflection of her tears, and the flush of her face reddened with her intense excitement heightened her beauty.
Pierre was visibly affected at her loveliness and sat down beside her. "What a splendid evening to be sure, how I do enjoy these moonlight nights, don't you?" he added, turning towards her.
"Yes," she answered mechanically without turning her head.
"Are you sure you don't feel cold?" he asked, as he began to steal his arm around her waist.
Renée never replied, but the fact that she did not remove his arm, caused him to grow bolder.
"You don't know how I have longed for this opportunity of declaring my love to you, Renée," and suiting his action to his words he bent down and implanted a kiss on her lips.
He could not have chosen a worse moment for his caresses. With her heart distracted with grief—her father's reproaches ringing in her ears, her natural modesty, and Delapine's mysterious words of foreboding evil, produced the same effect as the sting of a lash on a sleeping tiger.
Springing up with flashing eyes and quivering lips, her whole body trembling with excitement, she gave him a blow across the face with all her strength.
"How dare you? Let go, do you hear me?" and she stamped her little foot on the ground. "Let go this instant," she screamed.