Nataly's faith in the pleasant prognostic wavered beneath the crashes.

She had not much power of heart to desire anything save that which her bosom disavowed.

Uproar rather appeased her, calmness agitated.

She wished her beloved to be spared from a disappointment, thinking he deserved all successes, because of the rigours inflicted by her present tonelessness of blood and being.

Her unresponsive manner with him was not due to lack of fire in the blood or a loss of tenderness.