Without answering, Agnes pointed to a chair. She could do this,
and, for the time, she could do no more. All that she had read
of the hidden and sinister life in the palace at Venice; all that she
had heard of Montbarry's melancholy death and burial in a foreign land;
all that she knew of the mystery of Ferrari's disappearance,
rushed into her mind, when the black-robed figure confronted her,
standing just inside the door. The strange conduct of Lady Montbarry
added a new perplexity to the doubts and misgivings that troubled her.
There stood the adventuress whose character had left its mark on
society all over Europe--the Fury who had terrified Mrs. Ferrari at
the hotel--inconceivably transformed into a timid, shrinking woman!
Lady Montbarry had not once ventured to look at Agnes, since she
had made her way into the room. Advancing to take the chair
that had been pointed out to her, she hesitated, put her hand
on the rail to support herself, and still remained standing.
'Please give me a moment to compose myself,' she said faintly. Her head
sank on her bosom: she stood before Agnes like a conscious culprit
before a merciless judge.
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