Nothing appeared to be changed outwardly; she kept strictly her promise, shut herself up, and made no attempt whatever to see Felicien.

This did not seem to depress her at all, but she kept her bright, youthful look, smiling sweetly at Hubertine when occasionally she saw her eyes fixed upon her as if astonished.

However, in this enforced silence she thought only of him; he was always in her mind.
Her hope remained firm, and she was sure that in spite of all obstacles everything would come out all right in the end.

In fact, it was this feeling of certainty that gave her such an air of courage, of haughty rectitude, and of justice.
Hubert from time to time scolded her.
"You are over-doing, my dear; you are really growing pale.

I hope at least that you sleep well at night." "Oh yes, father! Like a log! Never in my life did I feel better than now." But Hubertine, becoming anxious in her turn, proposed that they should take a little vacation, and said: "If you would like it, my child, we will shut up the house, and we will go, all three of us, to Paris for a while." "Oh! mother mine, of what are you thinking?
What would become of all our orders for work?
You know I am never in better health than when closely occupied." In reality, Angelique simply awaited a miracle, some manifestation of the Invisible which would give her to Felicien.