“I am aware of it. Yet I am ready to attest upon oath that I have the power of freeing him from captivity, or at least of saving him from death. I am rather inclined to the opinion that they will roast him. I should be sorry to have that done, really, as I have nothing against the young gentleman, except the penchant you have for him, which is not his fault, poor fellow. Be merciful. Save him from this dreadful fate.”
“You are a wretch. I suspected you all along, and now I am sure of it. You are in league with the Indians.”
“Ah; you have great penetration.”
“When father Ben returns I will inform him of this.”
“You forget. You are pledged not to say a word. Remember that.”
“You entrapped me into a promise which I ought to break,” she answered.
“Yet you dare not. I tell you that the fate of your lover hangs upon my life. I am not likely to give you up readily. I repeat that I love you. A Frenchman loves in a moment, and forever. Beware what you do, and above all, keep silent.”
She knew that she was in his power. He laughed lightly, and laid his hand upon her shoulder. All the passion in her nature was aroused, and she struck him in the face with the flat of her hand. He stepped back a pace and put his hand to a knife instinctively. A flush of blood rushed into his face. Jan, from where he was sitting, saw the action, and rushing forward, thrust his heavy body between them to shake his ponderous fist under the nose of Jules, who recoiled at the sight.
“She struck me,” he cried, angrily. “I will make you repent that blow so bitterly that you will wish you had never been born, rather than have raised your hand against me.”
“You drove me to do it,” she answered.