Angela became very pale, and threw a look of agony and indescribable fear on the buccaneer, and replied to the chevalier with ill-concealed anger, "Ah, who told you, sir, that all that has taken place is natural? Do you know why I, young and rich, offer you my hand the first moment I see you? Do you know what this union will cost you? You believe yourself to have a strong mind; who told you that certain phenomena would not go beyond your comprehension? Do you know _who_ I am? Do you know _where_ you are? Do you know in consequence of what strange mystery I offer you my hand? A comedy?" repeated Blue Beard bitterly, regarding the buccaneer with an appearance almost of fear; "can you not be made to understand that all this is not a play, sir? It is hardly to be believed that your good angel brought you here, at least." "And then, after all, who told you that you would ever go out of this place?" said the buccaneer coldly. The chevalier recoiled a step, trembling, and said: "Zounds! no violence, at least--or if so----" "If so, what can you do?" said Blue Beard, with a smile which appeared to the Gascon implacably cruel. Croustillac thought, too late, of the doors he had shut behind him, of the difficult road he had had to traverse in order to reach this diabolical house; he saw himself at the mercy of the widow, of the buccaneer, and of their numerous slaves. He repented heartily and most earnestly of having so blindly entered upon such an enterprise. On the other hand, Croustillac, in contemplating the enchanting figure of Blue Beard, could not believe her capable of such bloodthirsty perfidy. Nevertheless, the strange avowals she had made him, the terrible reports concerning her, the threats of the buccaneer, began to make some impression upon the chevalier. Just then a mulattress came in to announce supper. During the gloomy reflections of the adventurer, Angela had a few minutes' conversation with the buccaneer, carried on in a low voice; she was, as a result, apparently satisfied and reassured, for, little by little, her brow cleared, and the smile again came to her lips. "Come, brave knight," said she gayly to the chevalier, "do not be afraid of me any more; do not take me for the devil; and do honor to the modest supper that a poor widow is only too happy to offer you." So saying, she graciously offered her hand to Croustillac. The supper was served with a sumptuousness, a refinement, which left no doubt in the chevalier's mind as to the enormous fortune of the widow. Only, we would say to the reader that the silver-gilt service was not engraved with the royal arms of England, as were the objects which were placed only before Blue Beard.