"Nor did I want him killed; so our views jibed well."
"Why not, then? Did you prefer him as your wife's lover to some other who might appear?"
"I do not intend that my wife shall have lovers," Lucas answered.
Mayenne broke into laughter.
"Nom d'un chien, where will you keep her? In the Bastille? Lorance and no lovers! Ho, ho!"
"I mean none whom she favours."
"Then why do you leave Mar alive? She adores the fellow," Mayenne said. I had no idea whether he really thought it or only said it to annoy Lucas. At any rate it had its effect. Lucas's brows were knotted; he spoke with an effort, like a man under stress of physical pain.
"I know she loves him now, and she would love him dead; but she would not love him a parricide."
"Is that your creed? Pardieu! you don't know women. The blacker the villain the more they adore him."
"I know it is true, monsieur," Lucas said smoothly, "that you have had successes."