"Behind the coping to listen when he, her father, was questioning me! And, when I looked up and caught her, she walked out--to show me I might as well confess!" "She did that?" "Then tried to cozen me into believing it was not through her," went on the man bitterly, as if speaking to himself. "But I know the lying blood--none better--and when she saw it was no use," he paused and looked up, the marks of the stripes on his face seeming suddenly to burn and grow livid, "she acknowledged it to my face! 'I won't deny.' Those were her words! And when she left the place, she turned around to look back at me--and laugh--" "You are not mistaken?" "Perhaps," said the man, a venomous light in his obstinate eyes, "it was all a fancy; or--I am lying!" Outside, the wind, blowing sharper, whistled about the eaves, beat at the window and shook the blinds angrily; far below, a steady monotone to those other sounds, could be heard the rush and breaking of the surf. "Why did I cross myself that day on the island, when I saw her--behind you?" Sanchez's taciturnity--the reticence of years--suddenly burst its bonds. "Because she made me think of the former lady of the Mount--the Governor's wife--who betrayed the Seigneur, your father! I promised him to keep the secret--he would have it, for the sake of the lady; but now--to you! Your father was stabbed at the foot of the Mount by the Governor!--" "Stabbed! By him!" "It was given out," sourly, "by rogues--again to shield her!" "But--" "That same day he had a letter--from her. As evening fell he walked near the Mount--was followed by the Governor, who sprang, struck in the back and left him for dead! I found him and took him home. But before he recovered, it was reported my lady had died--" "How?" "I know not; a punishment, perhaps! She was always delicate--or liked to be considered such--a white-faced, pretty, smiling thing whose beauty and treachery this other one, the daughter, inherits. It was the ghost of herself looking over your shoulder that day on the island, with the same bright, perfidious eyes--" "Enough!" Angrily the Black Seigneur brought down his hand. "I will hear no more!" "Because she has caught your fancy! Because you--" "No more, I say! Think you I would not avenge your wrongs at once, were it possible? That I would not strike for you, on the instant? But now? My hands are tied. Another matter--of life, or death--presses first!" Sanchez looked at him quickly; said no more; between them, the silence grew. The servant was the first to move; turning to the table, he began to eat; at first mechanically; afterward faster, with the ravenous zest of one who has not tasted food for many hours. The other, for his part, showed no immediate desire to disturb that occupation; for some time waited; and it was not until the servant stopped; reached out his arm for a glass, to drink, that the young man again spoke.