The flash of his eyes, the sudden passion of his face,
burned themselves into her memory. She thought for a second that he
would spring on her and strike her down. Yet though the women behind her
held their breath, she faced him, and did not quail; and to that, she
fancied, she owed it that he controlled himself.
"You will not?" he repeated, as if he could not understand such
resistance to his will--as if he could not credit his ears. "You will
not?" But after that, when he had said it three times, he laughed; a
laugh, however, with a snarl in it that chilled her blood.
"You bargain, do you?" he said. "You will have the last tittle of the
price, will you? And have thought of this and that to put me off, and to
gain time until your lover, who is all to you, comes to save you? Oh,
clever girl! clever! But have you thought where you stand--woman? Do
you know that if I gave the word to my people they would treat you as the
commonest baggage that tramps the Froidmantel? Do you know that it rests
with me to save you, or to throw you to the wolves whose ravening you
hear?" And he pointed to the window. "Minister? Priest?" he continued
grimly. "_Mon Dieu_, Mademoiselle, I stand astonished at my moderation.
You chatter to me of ministers and priests, and the one or the other,
when it might be neither! When you are as much and as hopelessly in my
power to-day as the wench in my kitchen! You! You flout me, and make
terms with me! You!"
And he came so near her with his dark harsh face, his tone rose so
menacing on the last word, that her nerves, shattered before, gave way,
and, unable to control herself, she flinched with a low cry, thinking he
would strike her.
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