Petrified with terror, Rose fell on her knees and implored mercy.
"Yes," replied Pierre, "you may well be frightened: I have your secret. I have only to publish it and you are ruined for ever:"
You will not do it! "entreated the guilty woman, clasping her hands.
"I have only to tell your husband," continued Pierre, "that his wife has dishonoured him, and to explain the reason of his unnaturally heavy sleep."
"He will kill me!"
"No doubt: he is jealous, he is an Italian, he will know how to avenge himself—even as I do."
"But I never did you any harm," Rose cried in despair. "Oh! have pity, have mercy, and spare me!"
"On one condition."
"What is it?"
"Come with me."