"He must be got away from here, at all costs," answered the abbe. "You
cannot live in this way, continually exposed to the brutality of a
brigand."

"It cannot be called living. Since he set foot in the house I have not
had a moment's peace of mind. Imprisoned in my room, or forced to seek
the protection of my friends, I am almost afraid to move. It is as much
as I dare to do to creep downstairs, and I never cross the corridor
without sending Leblanc ahead as a scout. The poor woman, who has always
found me so brave, now thinks I am mad. The suspense is horrible. I
cannot sleep unless I first bolt the door. And look, abbe, I never walk
about without a dagger, like the heroine of a Spanish ballad, neither
more nor less."

"And if this wretch meets you and frightens you, you will plunge it
into your bosom? Oh! that must not be. Edmee, we must find some means
of changing a position which is no longer tenable. I take it that you do
not wish to deprive him of your father's friendship by confessing to the
latter the monstrous bargain you were forced to make with this bandit at
Roche-Mauprat. But whatever may happen--ah! my poor little Edmee, I am
not a bloodthirsty man, but twenty times a day I find myself deploring
that my character of priest prevents me from challenging this creature,
and ridding you of him forever."

This charitable regret, expressed so artlessly in my very ear, made me
itch to reveal myself to them at once, were it only to put the abbe's
warlike humour to the proof; but I was restrained by the hope that I
should at last discover Edmee's real feelings and real intentions in
regard to myself.