But as her garden-hat fell upon her shoulders, her exquisite hair seemed to make a halo around her head of fine gold, and she appeared to him, indeed, like one of those legendary virgins of the old prayer-books, so frail was she, so primitive, so absorbed in her deep feeling of intense and pure affection.
"Be good, be merciful, Monseigneur.

You are the master.

Do allow us to be happy!" She implored him, and finding that he remained unmoved, without speaking, she again bowed down her head.
Oh! this unhappy child at his feet; this odour of youth that came up from the sweet figure thus bent before him! There he saw, as it were again, the beautiful light locks he had so fondly caressed in the days gone by.

She, whose memory still distressed him after twenty years of penitence, had the same fresh youthfulness, the same proud expression, and the same lily-like grace.

She had re-appeared; it was she herself who now sobbed and besought him to be tender and merciful.
Tears had come to Angelique, yet she continued to outpour her heart.
"And, Monseigneur, it is not only that I love him, but I also love the nobility of his name, the lustre of his royal fortune.