"You killed the tonsured fellow because you suspected that holy man of improper relations with your wife, and of probably being the father of Guy——"
"Hold your tongue!" cried Neroweg, with a voice full of anger. "Hold your tongue, accursed woman! Since that murder I have had no chaplain. No priest, consents to dwell here. Enough of that. Is the philter ready?"
"Not yet. Have patience, seigneur Count."
"What else do you want to concoct it? You wanted the blood of a young child; the young son of one of my serfs has been delivered to you——"
"The child must be prepared for the sacrifice by magic formulas."
"In a word, can you tell me when will that marvelous philter, that you have promised me, be ready?"
"I shall work upon it this very night, during the hours between the rising and the going down of the moon; that's to say, for several hours."
"That's another delay! My ailment grows apace! I suspect you of having cast upon me the evil spell under which I struggle, and which drives me to deeds of furious folly."
"You are wrong in attributing to me such an influence over your fate."
"Was it not you who incited me to kill my eldest son Gonthram?"