hands a glass and a pistol, and double-locked the door behind him.
Terrified at this spectacle, the marquise half raised herself in her bed,
gazing voiceless and wordless. Then the abbe approached her, his lips
trembling; his hair bristling and his eyes blazing, and, presenting to
her the glass and the pistol, "Madame," said he, after a moment of
terrible silence, "choose, whether poison, fire, or"--he made a sign to
the chevalier, who drew his sword--"or steel."

The marquise had one moment's hope: at the motion which she saw the
chevalier make she thought he was coming to her assistance; but being
soon undeceived, and finding herself between two men, both threatening
her, she slipped from her bed and fell on her knees.

"What have I done," she cried, "oh, my God? that you should thus decree
my death, and after having made yourselves judges should make yourselves
executioners? I am guilty of no fault towards you except of having been
too faithful in my duty to my husband, who is your brother."

Then seeing that it was vain to continue imploring the abbe, whose looks
and gestures spoke a mind made up, she turned towards the chevalier.

"And you too, brother," said she, "oh, God, God! you, too! Oh, have
pity on me, in the name of Heaven!"

But he, stamping his foot and pressing the point of his sword to her
bosom, answered--

"Enough, madam, enough; take your choice without delay; for if you do not
take it, we will take it for you."