The captain went out and dismissed the musicians. But the thing troubled him, and he was already sick at heart on account of the last night's discourse and its discoveries.
CHAPTER XXXIV
A NEW COMPACT
What followed, by invention and design of the pious ecclesiastic, Mr. Purdon, was a villainy even greater than that at first designed—more daring, more cruel.
The bride, accompanied by the minister officiating in the late ceremony, walked back to her lodging. She was still exultant in the first glow and triumph of her revenge. He, on the other hand, walked downcast, stealthily glancing at his companion, his big head moving sideways like the head of a bear, his sallow cheeks paler than was customary. The bridegroom, for his part, flung himself into his chair, and so was carried to the lady's lodging. A strange wedding procession!
She threw off her cloak and her domino, and stood before her newly-made lord, her eyes bright, her face flushed, her lips quivering. She was filled with revenge only half satiated; but revenge can never be wholly satisfied; and she was filled with the triumph of victory.
"I have won!" she said; "you tried to deceive me again, Ludovick. But I have won. You have been caught in your own toils."
He took the nearest chair, sitting down in silence, but his face was dark. As she looked upon him, some of the triumph died out of her eyes; her cheek lost its glow; she began to be frightened. What would he say—or do—next? As for his reverence, he stood close to the door as if ready for instant flight. Indeed, there was cause for uncertainty because the man was desperate and his sword was at his side.
"Silence!" he said, "or I may kill you."
Then there was silence. The other two did not speak. The lady threw herself upon the sofa, twisting her fingers nervously.