The Place of Honeymoons (Chapter 6, page 2 of 13)

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Chapter 6

"Oh, but he shall pay, he shall pay!" she murmured, striving to loosen the
bars with her small, white, helpless hands. The cry seemed to be an
arietta, for through all these four maddening days she had voiced it,--now
low and deadly with hate, now full-toned in burning anger, now broken by
sobs of despair. "Will you never come, so that I may tell you how base and
vile you are?" she further addressed the east.

She had waited for his appearance on Sunday. Late in the day one of the
jailers had informed her that it was impossible for the gentleman to come
before Monday. So she marshaled her army of phrases, of accusations, of
denunciations, ready to smother him with them the moment he came. But he
came not Monday, nor Tuesday, nor Wednesday. The suspense was to her mind
diabolical. She began to understand: he intended to keep her there till he
was sure that her spirit was broken, then he would come. Break her spirit?
She laughed wildly. He could break her spirit no more easily than she
could break these bars. To bring her to Versailles upon an errand of
mercy! Well, he was capable of anything.

The room was large and fairly comfortable, but contained nothing
breakable, having been tenanted at one time by a strenuous lunatic, who
had considerately died after his immediate family and relations had worn
themselves into their several graves, taking care of him. But Eleonora
Harrigan knew nothing of the history of the room while she occupied it.
So, no ghost disturbed her restless slumberless nights, consumed in
watching and listening.

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