“The letter may have been but a trick, like other things. He had deceived us as to the flagrancy of that act of his at Cambrai; and knowing it to be too vile to be pardoned, had this further lie enacted, meaning to pass for some one else and so save his head. But he will not save it.”
“You mean he will be tried for the crime?”
“I mean he’ll lose his head for it,” was the blunt answer.
“You will not do this foul injustice,” said Gabrielle, with a touch of indignation.
“Who murders, dies, mademoiselle; that at least is law all over France; and Morvaix is no city of shelter.”
“He must not die; you cannot be so cruel.” Half protest, half entreaty was in her tone; and the Governor paused and bent his eyes upon her before he replied.
“For your sake more than any other’s, it is best that he should.”
“I do not understand you,” cried Gabrielle, with a catch of the breath as in fear.
“He has impressed you so deeply that, were his life spared and his liberty given to him, you would never be safe from him. He is a murderer, a man of the vilest life, who would never cease to persecute you, after what has passed.”
There was an even deeper depth of vileness in this man than she had deemed, was Gabrielle’s thought; and for a moment it cost her a supreme effort to remain calm. But the thought of Gerard’s peril came to her aid.