"Faith, you are right, brother, one had better die so than as the last husband died." And the buccaneer shuddered with horror.
"It appears that the death of the latter must have been more terrible than the former," said Croustillac, with affected carelessness.
"As to that story, comrade, I will not tell you that, you would be afraid."
"I? afraid?" and the Gascon shrugged his shoulders.
Blue Beard leaned over and whispered again to the Gascon, "Let him tell it, friend; this tale, at least, is worth the trouble. I am going to trap Rendsoul."
Then, addressing herself to the buccaneer, "Well, go on; speak! Why do you not speak? Do not pause in the middle of the road. You see the chevalier is listening with all his ears—go on, speak. I do not wish him to buy, as they say, a 'a cat in a bag.'"
"You should say a tigress in a bag," replied, laughingly, the buccaneer. "Ah, well, sir," addressing Croustillac, "Fancy this third husband a man, handsome, of dark complexion, thirty-six years of age, a Spaniard by birth. We came across him at Havana."
"Heavens! tell it quickly," said the widow, "the chevalier is impatient to hear."
"It was not a gray powder that he tasted, this one," replied the buccaneer, "but a drop, one drop only, of a pretty green liquid contained in the smallest flask I ever saw in my life, for it was made of a single hollow ruby."
"That is simple enough," said Angela, "the strength of this liquid was such that it would dissolve or break any flask which was not made of a ruby or a diamond."