"Because you did not wish to hurt me?" "Yes. . I'll be quiet. Besides, revenge is sweetened by delay; and I indulge too freely in the passion to rob it of any of its zest. At the door through which she had entered the room stood the so-called Monsieur Valade. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. The elastic spirits of youth resumed their sway; and, before the coach stopped, his tears had ceased to flow. And every day's experience proves that I was right.
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