"He quotes Scripture!" cried Martha, with admiration, her fears quite dispelled. "But I do really intimidate you?"
"Madame . . . it is because you are so majestic . . . you resemble so much one of the daughters of our king, that my heart beats in spite of myself;" and the Marquis placed his hand upon his heart with a movement full of grace. "Mercy on me, I can hardly speak! Ah! do not wish me to do it, madame. Self-command is impossible in circumstances like these," said Létorière, casting a look at once timid and imploring upon the lady, who was flattered by the effect she produced, and by her resemblance to one of the daughters of the King of France.
"I don't know whether I am asleep or awake," said Martha to herself; "how is it that he has been called shameless? audacious? a pitiless seducer? But perhaps he is playing with me! perhaps this appearance of candor is only an abominable feint of the evil spirit! Perhaps it is only the artifice of the tiger, who approaches his prey with soft steps, the better to seize and devour it!"
As this suspicion took possession of her mind, imitating, to a certain extent, in her retreat, the side-ling and stealthy step of the tiger, she prudently regained her fortress, that is to say, the table, and said softly to her husband:
"Prepare your blunderbuss, Flachsinfingen . . . the moment approaches . . ."
By quick movement under the cover, it was impossible to guess whether the councillor raised his blunderbuss or made an impatient gesture.
Once safely intrenched, with her poniard near at hand, the lady resumed her imperious tone, her repulsive physiognomy, and said, harshly, to Létorière:
"Well! and what do you want, sir? My husband is convinced of the justice of the claims of the German princes, and all your efforts will be useless."
"Adieu, then, madame, since you will not deign to hear me! I have no longer any hope. . . . Alas! ye Fates, how unhappy I am!"
The Marquis, putting one of his hands before his eyes, turned towards the door in profound dejection.