"Are you then indeed inflexible? does that soft bosom really hide an obdurate heart? can no pity influence you to compassionate the pangs my son will feel when he hears of your rejection?"
"I never can feel pity for the pangs of disappointed avarice and ambition (replied Madeline); and avarice and ambition, I am convinced, alone influence your son's addresses to me; for how can he love or admire an object whose virtues he never knew, whose form he never saw? Your persecution, Sir, has forced me to be explicit: drop it, if you wish me to conceal my opinion."
"Insolent girl!" cried D'Alembert, flinging away her hand, and stamping on the ground.
A kind of terror pervaded the breast of Madeline at his violence; and she was hurrying to the castle when he overtook, and again stopped her.
