"Yes, you! Nay, why fence with me?" he continued gently. "You knew it,
you have said it. You have read it in my eyes these seven days."

She did not speak, or move, or seem to breathe. As he said, she had
foreseen, she had known the answer. But Tignonville, it seemed, had not.
He sprang to his feet.

"M. de Tavannes," he cried, "you are a villain!"

"Monsieur?"

"You are a villain! But you shall pay for this!" the young man continued
vehemently. "You shall not leave this room alive! You shall pay for
this insult!"

"Insult?" Tavannes answered in apparent surprise; and then, as if
comprehension broke upon him, "Ah! Monsieur mistakes me," he said, with a
broad sweep of the hand. "And Mademoiselle also, perhaps? Oh! be
content, she shall have bell, book, and candle; she shall be tied as
tight as Holy Church can tie her! Or, if she please, and one survive,
she shall have a priest of her own church--you call it a church? She
shall have whichever of the two will serve her better. 'Tis one to me!
But for paying me, Monsieur," he continued, with irony in voice and
manner; "when, I pray you? In Eternity? For if you refuse my offer, you
have done with time. Now? I have but to sound this whistle"--he touched
a silver whistle which hung at his breast--"and there are those within
hearing will do your business before you make two passes. Dismiss the
notion, sir, and understand. You are in my power. Paris runs with
blood, as noble as yours, as innocent as hers. If you would not perish