He sprang forward, laughing. She
struggled in his strong arms, uselessly. With one hand he pressed up
her chin and kissed her squarely on the lips. Then he let her go. She
drew her hand across her mouth and spat upon the floor.
"What! So soon, Madame?"
Her bosom rose and fell quickly, as much from rage and hate as from the
exertion of the struggle.
"God will punish you, Monsieur, as he punishes all men who abuse their
strength as you have done,--punish you for the misery you have brought
upon me."
"What! and I bring you love?"
She wiped her lips again, this time on her sleeve.
"Does it burn like that, then?" laughing.
"It is poison," simply.
Outside the Chevalier writhed and twisted and strained. The agony!
She was alone in there, helpless. To be free, free! He wept, strove
vainly to loose his bonds. He cried aloud in his anguish. And the
vicomte heard him. He came to the door where he could see his enemy in
torture and at the same time prevent madame's escape.
"Is that you, Chevalier? Do you recollect the coin? I am a generous
debtor. I am paying you a hundred for one. Madame and I shall soon be
on the way to Montreal.
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