Count Hannibal walked a dozen paces
from her and returned, and again a dozen paces and returned; and again a
third time, with something fierce and passionate in his gait. At last he
stopped before her.
"You have nothing to offer for them," he said, in a cold, hard tone.
"Nothing that is not mine already, nothing that is not my right, nothing
that I cannot take at my will. My word?" he continued, seeing her about
to interrupt him. "True, Madame, you have it, you had it. But why need
I keep my word to you, who tempt me to break my word to the King?"
She made a weak gesture with her hands. Her head had sunk on her
breast--she seemed dazed by the shock of his contempt, dazed by his
reception of her offer.
"You saved the letters?" he continued, interpreting her action. "True,
but the letters are mine, and that which you offer for them is mine also.
You have nothing to offer. For the rest, Madame," he went on, eyeing her
cynically, "you surprise me! You, whose modesty and virtue are so great,
would corrupt your husband, would sell yourself, would dishonour the love
of which you boast so loudly, the love that only God gives!" He laughed
derisively as he quoted her words. "Ay, and, after showing at how low a
price you hold yourself, you still look, I doubt not, to me to respect
you, and to keep my word.
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