Sainte-Croix was aghast at these revelations, although they had been anticipated. But the demoniac mind of his beautiful companion drew him still closer towards her; her nature rose grander and grander in the opinion of his dark soul, from the very fiendishness of its attributes.
‘I am sure of its work,’ she continued. ‘Unlimited wealth, unquestioned freedom is in our grasp, so you but second my intentions. My brothers think they are ruling me as they would a wayward girl: how terrible will be my retribution!’
‘I have much to tell you, Marie, of my own plans,’ said Gaudin; ‘but it cannot be here. If those whom you have alluded to fall, others must go with them. We cannot pause in our career.’
‘There is one that I have marked as the earliest,’ returned the Marchioness. ‘I know not how it will affect your own feelings; in this instance I care not.’
Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she spoke, and her rapidity of utterance became mingled with her hurried but irregular respiration. An expression passed across her face of mingled triumph and satisfaction, whilst the fingers of her hand were quickly working one over the other.
‘And who is that, Marie?’ asked Gaudin, his curiosity aroused by the manner of the Marchioness.
‘The pale-faced girl, whose acquaintance with yourself I became so unluckily acquainted with in the Grotto of Thetis—your Languedocian leman—Louise Gauthier.’
‘She must not be injured!’ exclaimed Sainte-Croix hurriedly.
‘She must die!’ replied the Marchioness, with cold but determined meaning. ‘She loves you, and you may still care for her. You must be mine, and mine alone, Gaudin; your affections may not be participated in by another.’
‘All has finished between us, Marie! You are wrong—utterly wrong in your suspicions. You surely will not harm a poor girl like Louise?’