Pascal grasped her arm roughly:
“You conspire against the honour of your family, faithless girl! Ingrate!! Tell me where you have hidden this villain—the son of him who killed our father.”
Vivienne released herself from her brother’s hold and looked at him defiantly:
“Pascal, remember that I am your sister. Our father was a gentleman. Do not forget that you are his son.”
“Stop!” shouted Pascal. “You are not worthy to speak his name. Tell me where you have hidden this sneaking lover of yours, for, by Heaven, you shall deliver him to us or it will be the worse for you. It was for him, the coward, coming here under a false name, that you trampled upon the love of an honest man and set my wishes at defiance. You false-hearted liar! You are no sister of mine! Hypocrite! Now speak!”
“You see he is not here.”
“But you know where he is!”
“I swear to you, Pascal, that I know not at this moment whether he be an inhabitant of earth or heaven. It does not require much time to waft a spirit to the skies.”
Her brother’s eye caught sight of the blood-stained sword upon the floor:
“Have you killed him? Where is he? I will not believe it until I see his dead body.”