'No; from me.'
'You?'
'In his name,' said Guebhard, laughing softly; 'could I have lured you here, else?'
'Decidedly not,' she replied, with perplexity and anger. 'But how knew you that I was to be here?'
'Every movement of yours is known to me.'
'And your purpose?' asked Margarita.
'I scarcely know—punishment—revenge!' he replied, incoherently and a a little wildly.
As he surveyed her now he saw not a vestige of her soft, persuasive, and caressing manner, or the witchery of her sovereign smile. Her face expressed only deep anger, profound disdain, and utter indifference by turns; yet he attempted to take her hand, but she wrenched it away and waved him back, with a grandeur of gesture that compelled him to obey, while her eyes flashed with unspoken indignation.
It was at this moment that the rose-pearl bracelet fell from her wrist, but both were too preoccupied to observe it.
'You visited the English cur in his prison?' said he, after a pause.