But she was not that.

Sweet-faced, with something of unusual beauty still in her pale cheeks and starving eyes--trembling at his approach and a slave in his presence--she was, like his dogs, the PROPERTY of The Brute.

And the woman had a baby.

One had already died; and it was the thought that this one might die, as the other had died, that brought at times the new flash of fire into her dark eyes.
"Le bon Dieu--I pray to the Blessed Angels--I swear you SHALL live!" she would cry to it at times, hugging it close to her breast.

And it was at these times that the fire came into her eyes, and her pale cheeks flushed with a smouldering bit of the flame that had once been her beauty.