"I am in the hands of God, brother—try it. I am only a poor defenceless man, incapable of resisting you. Torture me, then, if such be your good pleasure; but know that I will die, without revealing my secret."
Montbarts bent a flashing glance on the monk who stood so calm before him; and then, a moment after, struck his forehead angrily.
"I am mad!" he exclaimed: "What do I care for this name—do I not know it already? Listen, father. Forgive me what I said to you, for passion blinded me. You came to this island freely, and shall leave it freely—in my turn I swear it to you; and I am not more accustomed to break any oaths I take—no matter their nature—than you are."
"I know it, brother. I have nothing to forgive you. I see that grief led you astray, and I pity you, for Heaven has chosen me, I feel a presentiment of it, to bring a great misfortune upon you."
"Yes, you speak truly. I did not seek this woman—I tried to forget her, and it is she who voluntarily places herself in my path. It is well, Heaven will judge between her and me. She demands that I will go and see her, and I will do so, but she must only blame herself for the terrible consequences of our interview. Still, I consent to leave her yet one chance of escape. When you return to her, urge her not to try to see me again. You see, that I have a little pity for her in my heart, in spite of all she made me suffer; but if, in spite of your entreaties, she persists in meeting me, in that case her will be done. I will go to the place of meeting she may select."
"I know where it is, brother, and am ordered to point it out to you today."
"Ah," the filibuster said, suspiciously, "she has forgotten nothing. Well, where is it?"
"The lady, you can understand, cannot quit the island, even if she wished to do so."
"That is true. So we are to meet in Hispaniola itself?"
"Yes, brother."