“Ah, monsieur, do not answer her,” said the doctor. “She is becoming excited, a condition to be avoided if possible, at least until she is in more suitable quarters.”
“I will order the closed carriage, Doctor,” said Pascal, “and my servants, who will accompany you, can drive it back to-morrow morning. Come along!” he said to Vivienne, and he attempted to grasp her hand.
Vivienne recoiled: “Now? To-night? You cannot mean to-night, Pascal?”
“I mean now, at once,” he cried. “Come!”
“Better try gentleness before using force,” Dr. Procida suggested.
“Force? You would not force me from this room? Oh, Pascal, shut me in here, give me bread and water, and naught but the cold stones to lie upon, and I will bless you!”
Pascal turned to Dr. Procida: “Better take her at once.”
Then Vivienne appealed to the doctor. “No, no! For the love of Heaven, tell him to leave me here! I shall go mad, indeed, if you take me from the castle.”
She threw herself at her brother’s feet: “Here upon my knees, I beg that you will not send me away from the dear home I love, to live, and eat, and sleep with lunatics. Oh, God! Suffer not a thing so horrible! Torture me, Pascal. I will endure anything at your hands if you will but let me remain here!”
Dr. Procida placed his hand on Pascal’s arm: “Gently, monsieur.”