A Parisian Romance — page 184: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A PARISIAN ROMANCE. 175 “So, after this explanation, no more hatred, no more antipathy?” asked the baron, in an insinu- ating mellifluous voice. Marcelle tried to smile, but it was a very feeble effort. “Certainly not,” she said, mechanically. “You will like me a little,” persisted Chevrial. “T should be very ungrateful if I did not.” “Oh! if you only like me because you feel that you ought to.” Marcelle, by this time, was in a terrible state of nervous anxiety. Would this hateful man never go, and end this horrible interview? “Well,” said the baron, rising and coming close to her, “give me your hand as a token of this prom- ised friendship.” She listlessly allowed him to take it and raise it to his lips. The contact seemed to scorch her flesh, and with a movement of offended modesty which she could not repress, she abruptly withdrew her hand. “Au revoir, my dear madam, my very dear madam. Count upon me!” As Marcelle heard the outer door. close upon him, she started to her feet. She was very pale, and her gray eyes flashed with anger. “T hate him! I hate him! I hate him!” she ex- claimed, passionately; and wringing her hands with a nervous motion, she began to pace feverishly up and down the little room. Her brain was ina tumult of mingled fury and GEomicbooks im