" I glanced at Mademoiselle, whose cheeks were
growing an ominous red.
"Well, Mademoiselle," I continued, "your father and Monseigneur de Mazarin
appear to have bared their heart's desire to each other, and M. de Mancini
was sent to Canaples to woo and win your father's elder daughter."
A long pause followed, during which she stood with face aflame, averted
eyes, and heaving bosom, betraying the feelings that stormed within her at
the disclosure of the bargain whereof she had been a part. At length--"Oh,
Monsieur!" she exclaimed in a choking voice, and clenching her shapely
hands, "to think--"
"I beseech you not to think, Mademoiselle," I interrupted calmly, for,
having taken the first plunge, I was now master of myself. "The ironical
little god, whom the ancients painted with bandaged eyes, has led M. de
Mancini by the nose in this matter, and things have gone awry for the
plotters. There, Mademoiselle, you have the reason for a clandestine
union. Did Monsieur your father guess how Andrea's affections have"--I
caught the word "miscarried" betimes, and substituted--"gone against his
wishes, his opposition is not a thing to be doubted.
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