The little victims played."


Isabel was too happy, and Charley too careless to be prudent. Once I
caught his glance as it crossed with Bruce's scowl. There was an
expression on his pleasant face that few men had ever seen there,
approaching nearly to an insolent defiance. Looking at those two, a
child might have known that between them there was bitter hate.

But what of that? Are not the laws of society and the amenities of
civilized life supreme over such trifles as personal animosities? How
many women are there who never meet without mingling in a close embrace,
when each is to the other a Brinvilliers in heart? My gentle cousin
Kate, only last night I saw you greet your intimate enemy. It was the
moat gushing thing I ever imagined. The kisses were profuse and
tantalizing in the extreme; yet I wish, if thoughts could kill, dearest
Emma's neck would have been safer in the hug of a Norway bear than in
the clasp of your white willowy arms.

Are there not men, sitting constantly at each other's tables, who, in
the Golden Age, when people spoke and acted as they felt, would only
have encountered at the sword's point?

If we hear that our mortal foe is ruined irretrievably, we betray no
indecorous exultation, but smile complacently and say, "We are not
surprised;" or, if we have the chance, give him a last push to send him
over the precipice on whose brink he is staggering. But as for any
violent demonstration--bah! the _Vendetta_ is going out of fashion, even
in Corsica, nowadays; only on the boards of the "Princess's" does it
have a run.