“Can I put a stop to them?”
“Yes.”
“Can I avenge them?”
“On their author, yes—on his tool, no.”
“Why not?”
“Because—I am the tool.”
Savinien turned pale.
“I have just seen Ursula—” said Goupil.
“Ursula?” said the lover, looking fixedly at the clerk.
“Mademoiselle Mirouet,” continued Goupil, made respectful by Savinien’s tone; “and I would undo with my blood the wrong that has been done; I repent of it. If you were to kill me, in a duel or otherwise, what good would my blood do you? can you drink it? At this moment it would poison you.”