What irony to perceive thus those two lovers, whom she had wished to strike, with the ecstacy of bliss in their eyes! Lydia would have liked to tear out their eyes, his as well as hers, and to trample them beneath her heel.

A fresh flood of hatred filled her heart.

God! how she hated them, and with what a powerless hatred! But her time would come; another need pressed sorely--to prevent the meeting of the following day, to save her brother.

To whom should she turn, however?
To Dorsenne?
To Montfanon?
To Baron Hafner?
To Peppino Ardea?
She thought by turns of the four personages whose almost simultaneous visits had caused her to believe that they were the seconds of the two champions.

She rejected them, one after the other, comprehending that none of them possessed enough authority to arrange the affair.