re. She tried to deceive herself, she pretended to be
free from all care, as she sang while embroidering the Hautecoeur coat
of arms, upon which she was at work. But her heart was so full it almost
stifled her, and she was ashamed to acknowledge to herself that she was
weak enough to love him still in spite of all, and even to love him more
than ever. For a week these armorial bearings, as they grew thread by
thread under her fingers, filled her with a terrible sorrow. Quartered
one and four, two and three, of Jerusalem and d'Hautecoeur; of
Jerusalem, which is argent, a cross potence, or, between four
cross-crosslets of the last; and d'Hautecoeur, azure, on a castle, or, a
shield, sable, charged with a human heart, argent; the whole accompanied
by three fleurs-de-lys, or, two at the top and one in the point. The
enamels were made of twist, the metals of gold and silver thread. What
misery it was to feel that her hands trembled, and to be obliged to
lower her head to hide her eyes, that were blinded with tears, from all
this brightness. She thought only of him; she adored him in the lustre
of his legendary nobility. And when she embroidered the motto of the
family, "_Si Dieu veult, je veux_," in black silk on a streamer of
silver, she realised that she was his slave, and that never again
could she reclaim him. Then tears prevented her from seeing, while
mechanically she continued to make little stitches in her work.

After this it was indeed pitiable. Angelique loved in despair, fought
against this hopeless affection, which she could not destroy. She still
wished to go to Felicien, to reconquer him by throwing her arms around
his neck; and thus the contest was daily renewed. Sometimes she thought
she had gained control over her feelings, so great a silence appeared to
have fallen within and around her. She seemed to see herself as if in a
vision, a stranger in reality, very little, very cold, and kneeling like
an obedient child in the humility of renunciation. Then it was no longer
herself, but a sensible young girl, made so by her education and her
home life. Soon a rush of blood mounted to her face, making her dizzy;
her perfect health, the ardent feelings of her youth, seemed to gallop
like runaway colts, and she resaw herself, proud and passionate, in all
the reality of her unknown origin. Why, then, had she been so obedient?
There was no true duty to consult, only free-will. Already she had
planned her flight, and ca