Count Hannibal

"Indeed?"

"Ay, indeed! And indeed, Monsieur!"

Her face was in moonlight, his was in shadow.

"And this is your new tone, Madame, is it?" he said, slowly and after a

pregnant pause. "The crossing of a river has wrought so great a change

in you?"

"No!" she cried.

"Yes," he said. And, despite herself, she flinched before the grimness

of his tone. "You have yet to learn one thing, however: that I do not

change. That, north or south, I am the same to those who are the same to

me. That what I have won on the one bank I will hold on the other, in

the teeth of all, and though God's Church be thundering on my heels! I

go to Vrillac--"

"You--go?" she cried. "You go?"

"I go," he repeated, "to-morrow. And among your own people I will see

what language you will hold. While you were in my power I spared you.

Now that you are in your own land, now that you lift your hand against

me, I will show you of what make I am. If blows will not tame you, I

will try that will suit you less. Ay, you wince, Madame! You had done

well had you thought twice before you threatened, and thrice before you

took in hand to scare Tavannes with a parcel of clowns and fisherfolk. To-

morrow, to Vrillac and your duty! And one word more, Madame," he

continued, turning back to her truculently when he had gone some paces

from her. "If I find you plotting with your lover by the way I will hang

not you, but him. I have spared him a score of times; but I know him,

and I do not trust him."

"Nor me," she said, and with a white, set face she looked at him in the

moonlight. "Had you not better hang me now?"

"Why?"

"Lest I do you an injury!" she cried with passion; and she raised her

hand and pointed northward. "Lest I kill you some night, Monsieur! I

tell you, a thousand men on your heels are less dangerous than the woman

at your side--if she hate you."

"Is it so?" he cried. His hand flew to his hilt; his dagger flashed out.

But she did not move, did not flinch, only she set her teeth; and her

eyes, fascinated by the steel, grew wider.

His hand sank slowly. He held the weapon to her, hilt foremost; she took

it mechanically.

"You think yourself brave enough to kill me, do you?" he sneered. "Then

take this, and strike, if you dare. Take it--strike, Madame! It is

sharp, and my arms are open." And he flung them wide, standing within a

pace of her. "Here, above the collar-bone, is the surest for a weak

hand. What, afraid?" he continued, as, stiffly clutching the weapon

which he had put into her hand, she glared at him, trembling and

astonished. "Afraid, and a Vrillac! Afraid, and 'tis but one blow! See,

my arms are open. One blow home, and you will never lie in them. Think

of that. One blow home, and you may lie in his. Think of that! Strike,

then, Madame," he went on, piling taunt on taunt, "if you dare, and if

you hate me. What, still afraid! How shall I give you heart? Shall I

strike you? It will not be the first time by ten. I keep count, you

see," he continued mockingly. "Or shall I kiss you? Ay, that may do.

And it will not be against your will, either, for you have that in your

hand will save you in an instant. Even"--he drew a foot nearer--"now!

Even--" And he stooped until his lips almost touched hers.