Duval shook his head. "I do not know. Sometimes I think - but I do not say."
"I hope," said Charles, "that it is not our Monk?"
The artist gave a start, and grew sickly pale all at once. "No, no!" he said. "But do not speak so loud, m'sieur! You do not know who may be listening."
Since a heavy rain was now beating against the windows it seemed absurd to suppose that anyone could be lurking outside, but Charles saw that it was useless to reason with one whose nerves were so little under control. To humour the artist, he lowered his voice. "It is unwise, then, even to mention the Monk?" he asked.
Duval nodded vigorously. "For me, yes. There are those who listen to what I say though they seem to be deaf. M'sieur, I tell you it is too much!- Sometimes when I am alone in this house I think it would be better to give it all up, not to attempt - I have not the courage, he is clever, ah, but clever!"
"My friend," Charles said, "I think someone has some sort of a hold over you. Don't be alarmed: I'm not asking what it is."
The thunder crashed above their heads, and involuntarily Duval winced. "Yes, he has what you call a hold, but what if I get a hold over him? What then, hein?" His fingers curled and uncurled; he looked so haggard that once more Charles found himself pitying him against his will.
"Forgive me if I say that I think you would do well to get away from this lonely life of yours. It has preyed too much on your mind."
The artist's eyes stared wildly at him. "I cannot get away!" he burst out. "I am tied, tied! I dare not speak, even! What I could tell! Ah, m'sieur, there are things I know that you would give all to learn. Yes, I am not a fool; I know what you are seeking, you and that other. You will not find it, but I - I might! You do not believe? You think I talk so because perhaps I am drunk? You are wrong. It is true that sometimes I have drunk too much. To-day, no! What is it you desire to see? You will not answer? But I know, m'sieur! You desire to see the face of the Monk."
Charles would have spoken, but he swept on, as though a spate of words had been loosed in him. "You will not. But I desire it also, and I tell you the day comes when I shall see it. And if I see it, only for one little minute! one little, little minute, what shall I do? Shall I tell you? Ah no, m'sieur! No, no, no, I tell no one, but I am free! And it will be for me then to revenge myself, for me to be master!"