“Loves him!” she cried. “Ah! what are words? Corentin! he is my life, my soul, my breath!” She flung herself at the feet of the man, whose silence terrified her. “Soul of vileness!” she cried, “I would rather degrade myself to save his life than degrade myself by betraying him. I will save him at the cost of my own blood. Speak, what price must I pay you?” Corentin quivered. “I came to take your orders, Marie,” he said, raising her. “Yes, Marie, your insults will not hinder my devotion to your wishes, provided you will promise not to deceive me again; you must know by this time that no one dupes me with impunity.” “If you want me to love you, Corentin, help me to save him.” “At what hour is he coming?” asked the spy, endeavoring to ask the question calmly. “Alas, I do not know.” They looked at each other in silence. “I am lost!” thought Mademoiselle de Verneuil. “She is deceiving me!” thought Corentin. “Marie,” he continued, “I have two maxims. One is never to believe a single word a woman says to me--that’s the only means of not being duped; the other is to find what interest she has in doing the opposite of what she says, and behaving in contradiction to the facts she pretends to confide to me. I think that you and I understand each other now.” “Perfectly,” replied Mademoiselle de Verneuil. “You want proofs of my good faith; but I reserve them for the time when you give me some of yours.” “Adieu, mademoiselle,” said Corentin, coolly. “Nonsense,” said the girl, smiling; “sit down, and pray don’t sulk; but if you do I shall know how to save the marquis without you. As for the three hundred thousand francs which are always spread before your eyes, I will give them to you in good gold as soon as the marquis is safe.” Corentin rose, stepped back a pace or two, and looked at Marie. “You have grown rich in a very short time,” he said, in a tone of ill-disguised bitterness. “Montauran,” she continued, “will make you a better offer still for his ransom. Now, then, prove to me that you have the means of guaranteeing him from all danger and--” “Can’t you send him away the moment he arrives?” cried Corentin, suddenly. “Hulot does not know he is coming, and--” He stopped as if he had said too much. “But how absurd that you should ask me how to play a trick,” he said, with an easy laugh. “Now listen, Marie, I do feel certain of your loyalty. Promise me a compensation for all I lose in furthering your wishes, and I will make that old fool of a commandant so unsuspicious that the marquis will be as safe at Fougeres as at Saint-James.” “Yes, I promise it,” said the girl, with a sort of solemnity. “No, not in that way,” he said, “swear it by your mother.” Mademoiselle de Verneuil shuddered; raising a trembling hand she made the oath required by the man whose tone to her had changed so suddenly. “You can command me,” he said; “don’t deceive me again, and you shall have reason to bless me to-night.”