"Well?"
"I should hunt him out and kill him. There would then be no obstacle."
"You will do as you say: consign me to imprisonment or death?"
"As much as I love you. You have your choice."
"Give me but a day," she pleaded.
"Truthfully, I dare not."
"But this paper; I must see it!" wildly.
The vicomte's hand tightened. "I will place the paper in your hands on the day of our marriage, unreservedly. You will then have the power to commit me, if so you will. Come, Madame; it grows on toward night. Which is it to be? A Montbazon's word is as good as a king's louis."
"Once it has been given!"
As a cat leaps, as the shadow of a bird passes, madame's hand flew out and grasped the projecting end of the paper. The short struggle was nothing; the red marks on her wrists were painless. Swiftly she rose and stepped, back, breathing quickly but with triumph. He made as though to leap, but in that moment she had smoothed out the crumpled paper. A glance, and it fluttered to the table. Her laughter was very close to tears.