Mademoiselle de Verneuil turned pale, for she saw her lover’s death in the eyes of this tiger with a human face, and her love for him rose to frenzy. Each hair on her head caused her an acute pain she could not endure, and she fell on the ottoman. Corentin stood looking at her for a moment with his arms folded, half pleased at inflicting a torture which avenged him for the contempt and the sarcasms this woman had heaped upon his head, half grieved by the sufferings of a creature whose yoke was pleasant to him, heavy as it was.
“Loves him!” she cried. “Ah! what are words? Corentin! he is my life, my soul, my breath!” She flung herself at the feet of the man, whose silence terrified her. “Soul of vileness!” she cried, “I would rather degrade myself to save his life than degrade myself by betraying him. I will save him at the cost of my own blood. Speak, what price must I pay you?”
“I came to take your orders, Marie,” he said, raising her. “Yes, Marie, your insults will not hinder my devotion to your wishes, provided you will promise not to deceive me again; you must know by this time that no one dupes me with impunity.”
“If you want me to love you, Corentin, help me to save him.”
“At what hour is he coming?” asked the spy, endeavoring to ask the question calmly.
“I am lost!” thought Mademoiselle de Verneuil.
“She is deceiving me!” thought Corentin. “Marie,” he continued, “I have two maxims. One is never to believe a single word a woman says to me--that’s the only means of not being duped; the other is to find what interest she has in doing the opposite of what she says, and behaving in contradiction to the facts she pretends to confide to me. I think that you and I understand each other now.”
“Perfectly,” replied Mademoiselle de Verneuil. “You want proofs of my good faith; but I reserve them for the time when you give me some of yours.”
“Adieu, mademoiselle,” said Corentin, coolly.
“Nonsense,” said the girl, smiling; “sit down, and pray don’t sulk; but if you do I shall know how to save the marquis without you. As for the three hundred thousand francs which are always spread before your eyes, I will give them to you in good gold as soon as the marquis is safe.”
Corentin rose, stepped back a pace or two, and looked at Marie.