‘Well?’ asked François eagerly, gazing at Exili with breathless attention.
‘Well,’ echoed the physician, ‘your sister, Madame de Brinvilliers, is awaiting your return. You have words together, and she is determined not to give up her lover, your late antagonist.’
‘Is that known also?’ asked François in a tone of mortification.
‘More by common report than by my magic,’ said Exili. ‘Walk on the quays and carrefours and listen to what the people say if you doubt me.’
‘Go on—go on,’ exclaimed the other.
‘I see no more,’ replied the physician; ‘all else has been told me by mortal lips. You wish to stop this liaison, without totally crushing your sister together with it. Is it not so?’
‘You are correct. I do not wish Madame de Brinvilliers to fall so utterly; but Sainte-Croix’s influence with her must be put an end to.’
‘The means are simple,’ replied Exili.
‘I know what you would say,’ interrupted D’Aubray; ‘you would have me exercise the most cursed power you have at your command—that of poison. No, physician—I am no murderer. If I met Sainte-Croix again in fair fight, I might deal less gently with him; but if he fell, it should be in equal combat.’
‘You spoke too hurriedly,’ continued Exili. ‘I would suggest the glance of an evil eye, or some philtre that might draw his affections away, and disgust his present mistress. Here is such a one, unless you would have him blighted by my glance.’