es of Croustillac were
convulsed; his whole physiognomy expressed a singular mixture of sorrow,
anger and hatred.

Rapidly glancing into the room, De Chemerant, in spite of his assurance,
lowered his eyes, colored, and for some moments remained perfectly
overwhelmed with confusion.

Let one judge of the spectacle which caused the confusion of De
Chemerant, and the rage, not feigned but sincere, even cruel, of
Croustillac, who, as we have said, passionately loved Blue Beard,
devoted himself generously for her, and was not in the secret of the
prince's different disguises.

Monmouth, in the disguise of the mulatto filibuster, Whirlwind, was
negligently extended on a sofa; he was smoking a long pipe, the bowl of
which rested on a low stand.

Angela, kneeling beside the latter, quickened the flame of the pipe with
a long golden pin.

"Good! that is all right," said Monmouth, whom we will call Whirlwind,
during this scene. "My pipe is lighted, now for something to drink."

Angela placed on a table a large Bohemian glass and a crystal _carafe_,
and, going over to the divan, while the filibuster puffed several
mouthfuls of tobacco, poured out a brimming glass of Muscatel wine and
handed it to him with a charmingly graceful air.

The filibuster emptied it at a single draught, after which he kissed her
roughly, saying, "Wine is good, and the woman is pretty; to the devil
with the husband!"

Hearing these very significant words, De Chemerant wished to retire.
Croustillac took hold of him and said, in a low tone, "Remain, sir,
remain, I desire to surprise, to confound them, the miserable wretches!"

The face of Croustillac clouded more and more. The warning which he had
given in begging Father Griffen to go and prepare Blue Beard that he was
about to seek her, concealed a very praiseworthy and generous purpose,
which we will explain later.

The sight of the filibuster exciting the adventurer's jealousy into rage
quickly changed his good intentions. He could not understand the
audacity of this young woman. He could not be blind to the evidence of
these familiarities on the part of the mulatto whom he had not yet
seen. He remembered those, no less shocking, of the Caribbean and the
buccaneer. He believed himself to be the dupe of a frightfully depraved
creature; he believed that Monmouth, her husband, no longer existed or
no longer lived at Devil's Cliff; and if Angela had co-operated with
himself (Croustillac) in his s