“I do not doubt you. Let her thank providence, that’s all, that she has sharper wits plotting to save her.” “Save her, then, but spare him.” “Do you say it? Why do you want him spared?” “For her sake only. What harm has she ever done me?” “There are some growths--infatuation, for example--that can only be treated with the surgeon’s knife.” “O, my God!” “You cannot reduce them so long as the root cause remains. Do you realise where we stand in this? At the fork of two roads--disgrace or an empire. A life, one mean poor life, must count for nothing in the decision.” “You always hated him.” “If I did, it was because of you.” “Yet you do not consider me in your vengeance. If it must be, why do you not act alone?” “Because, only with your help can we save the face of things.” “Go on. I am listening.” “Very well. You will let him in at the wicket, and I shall come upon you together.” “I see. A quarrel between you two about your mistress.” “You are sharp enough when you will.” “So you gamble with my good name, which is after all nothing to you.” “On the contrary. His blood shall prove its particular value.” “Blood!” She seemed to gulp; then whispered on hoarsely: “will there be much blood?” “You need not wait to see.” For some moments she stood silent, staring at him as if fascinated. “Charlot,” she said, “if I do what you want, will you marry me?” “We will see.” “I think there is good cause.” “Very well, we will see.” “I shall be ruined with my mistress.” “The duke will find you compensation.” “The duke! Does he know?” “He knows, and approves.” “Approves?” “Thunder of God! How do you suppose he regards this outrage to his pride, this abuse of his love? A common adventurer, a mere tavern-thrummer, without voice or standing--and to practise his damned arts on the very soil of a newly-turned grave! Whatever tolerance was shown him once is over and done with. He stands sentenced like a poaching dog. O, be sure the duke is in it!” “What if it be too late?” “Too late?” He made a step, and gripped her arm. “They are not gone already?” “Not that. But for an hour they were alone together last night.” He gave a deep sigh, and dropped his hold. “It is never too late there. But I trust the vestal in her--and his own discretion. An hour is nothing. You must besiege these shy fortresses a week before they surrender.” “Then I will not be a party to his murder.” “You will not?” “What harm has he done that cannot be mended?” “Alive, he’ll do it yet.” “I’ll not help to hurt him.” “You’ll do better to think again.” “Why, better?” “Lest you be made to take his place.” “What! You’ll kill me!” “Not I, unless I kill my love with kindness. But I cannot save you now your knowledge of another’s secret. Be sure, if your scruples refuse a part in it, means will be taken to keep it fast in you.” “The duke will have me poisoned?” “Who said the duke?” “O, how I hate you all!”