“Enough, madame, he will kill you!”
“Yet I am beautiful—is it not so?”
“The poor beast is ver’ blind.”
“A pretty compliment,” she rejoined, yet angry at the beast.
Gaston came, took the animal’s head in his hands, and whispered. Saracen became tranquil. Gaston beckoned to Mademoiselle Cerise. She came. He took her hand in his and put it at the horse’s lips. The horse whinnied angrily at first, but permitted a caress from the actress’s fingers.
“He does not make friends easily,” said Gaston. “Nor does his master.”
Her eyes lifted to his, the lids drooping suggestively. “But when the pact is made—!”
“Till death us do part?”
“Death or ruin.”
“Death is better.”