"
That night Angelique slept but little. The idea that to see her would
enable at once Monseigneur to decide in her favor haunted her. There was
in it no personal, feminine vanity, but she was under the influence of a
deep, intense love, and her true affection for Felicien was so evident,
she was sure that when his father realised it he could not be so
obstinate as to make them both unhappy. Many times she turned restlessly
in her bed as she pictured what would happen. Before her closed eyes
Monseigneur constantly passed in his violet-coloured robe. Perhaps it
was, indeed, through him, and by him, that the expected miracle was to
appear. The warm night was sleeping without, and she eagerly listened
for the voices, trying to know what the trees, the Chevrotte, the
Cathedral, her chamber itself, peopled with such friendly shadows,
advised her to do. But there was only an indistinct humming, and nothing
precise came to her. It seemed, however, as if mysterious whispers
encouraged her to persevere. At last she grew impatient of these too
slow certitudes, and as she fell asleep she surprised herself by saying:
"To-morrow I will speak to Monseigneur."
When she awoke, her proposed plan seemed not only quite natural but
necessary.
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