The first impression of Exili had been that some new punishment was in store for him, upon seeing his late enemy enter, accompanied by the functionary. But as the man left, and Gaudin, dashing his hat upon the ground, threw himself in an old fauteuil at the foot of the pallet destined for him, he perceived that he also was a prisoner. A savage gleam of triumph passed across his livid countenance as he bade Sainte-Croix welcome in a tone of mockery.
‘My prophecy has been speedily fulfilled,’ said Exili; ‘I gave you six months—little more than thrice six hours have passed, and we meet again. You may find good reason now to burn me as a sorcerer, when you wish entirely to get rid of me.’
Gaudin smarted under the taunt; but his face betokened no trace of the annoyance. He took the empty sheath of his sword, which still hung at his side, and, smiling carelessly, played with the lace that was fixed round his boot.
‘It is an odd rencontre,’ he said; ‘but you are no sorcerer, or you would not have been here. On that score you are safe. We stand a chance of being together for some time—perhaps we may become better friends.’
‘Friends!’ replied Exili, with a short, dreary laugh. ‘Never: we are not made of the stuff that can harbour such a dull sentiment. Crime—purpose—common interest—might set up some tie between us; but not friendship.’
‘I care not what you call it,’ said Gaudin; ‘our battle has become a drawn game, and we must make the best of it. Yesterday I had my revenge—to-night your turn has arrived. On the score of vengeance, then, we are quits. At least towards each other,’ he added, after a moment’s pause.
Exili had never taken his eyes from Sainte-Croix since he entered; his piercing glance appeared to be scanning the thoughts that prompted every word the other uttered. Gaudin’s last speech appeared to have awakened fresh attention.
‘And to no one else?’ asked Exili emphatically, still looking fixedly at him. ‘May I ask through whom you were sent here?’
‘Through the cause of all that can most wring and crush us, either in this world or that which is to follow, for aught I know.’
‘A woman?’