“For me, I mean!” he cried, holding his sides. “For me—not for you. Come—look at it from my standpoint. Be large-minded enough to look at it from my standpoint. Could anything have been more perfect, more complete, more admirable in every way? It tempts me almost to believe in Providence.”
I could only stand and stare at him and wonder numbly whether he were man or devil.
“You wonder how I know you?” he continued. “True, I have never before had the supreme pleasure of meeting you thus, face to face, and of conversing pleasantly with you as I am now doing; but I know you perfectly nevertheless. The Nation has a sharp eye for its enemies, and it never sleeps. That eye has been upon you from the moment of your flight.”
But I had shaken off my stupor and got something of my boldness back.
“Nonsense!” I said contemptuously. “I am not fleeing. I am on my way to join the forces at Thouars. You mistake me for some one else.”
He looked at me and nodded, while his smile grew and broadened.
“Not bad,” he commended; “but it is useless to lie. Even if you were not Tavernay, your fate is none the less assured. I can well understand your reluctance to part with life;” and he cast a leering glance toward the still form on the cot. “You must have found life very pleasant recently. But do not despond. You are leaving your mistress in tender hands. She will not want for affection.”
“What is the charge against me?” I demanded, controlling as well as I could the wrath which devoured me.
“The charge?” he repeated negligently. “Oh, I do not know—there are a dozen charges. I have not yet determined which I shall use. But what does it matter? Between ourselves, I will tell you, citizen, that I have decided upon your death because you are in the way;” and again his eyes wandered to that still figure.
“You would, then,” I said, realizing that I must keep my calmness, “murder a patriot in order to be more free to wrong a woman?”