Jacques Ferrand took, through the wicket the dangerous weapon with precaution, and threw it from him into the corridor.
"Verily—you believe me, then?" cried he, in transport.
"I believe you?" said the Creole, leaning with force her charming hands on those of Jacques Ferrand. "Yes, I believe you; for I see again your look of just now—that look which fascinated me. Your eyes sparkle with savage ardor; Jacques, I love your eyes!"
"Cecily!"
"You should speak the truth."
"I speak the truth! Oh! you shall see."
"Your countenance is lowering. Your expression formidable. Hold, you are as fearful and beautiful as a mad tiger. But you speak the truth, do you not?"
"I have committed crimes, I tell you."
"So much the better, if by their avowal you prove your love."
"And if I tell you all?"