Geneviève read his hesitation in his eyes.
"You have also seen him?" said she.
"Yes; I have seen him. Will you be saved? Let him, in his turn, take his seat in the iron arm-chair, and you will be safe." Dixmer, doubtless from Lorin's look and the expression of his countenance, divined what he uttered. He at first turned pale, but soon recovered his gloomy composure and satanic smile.
"Impossible!" said Geneviève; "I can no longer hate him."
"Say that he knows your generous nature, and defies you."
"No doubt; for he is sure of him, of me, of us all."
"Geneviève! Geneviève! I am less perfect than you. Let me bring him here! Let him perish!"
"No, Lorin, I conjure you. Nothing in common with that man, not even death. It seems to me I should be unfaithful to Maurice were I to die with Dixmer."
"But you will not die."
"How can I live when Maurice is to die?"