"It is necessary that he shall be altogether removed, or, if plain speaking be necessary, he must die. The means are already in our hands."
She shuddered involuntarily.
"Bah!" he said lightly. "Thou surely dost not love this weakling lover of thine, Diane? Grieve not for him, ma chère; the new Sieur de Mereac will wed thee to a nobler suitor when he comes to his own."
"I cannot do it," she moaned. "Nay, brother, I sicken at the very thought. 'Tis not in truth that I love him, but—but——"
"A foolish fancy," quoth her brother mockingly. "Nay, Diane, thou art not wont to blanch so easily, and bethink thee of thy sweet revenge on yon proud and scornful maid."
Her hazel eyes grew hard.
"Yes," she said, "I hate her; yes, hate her with all my soul, for she scorns me, Guillaume, and flouts me too, for all her brother's anger. Ay, revenge is sweet, and yet——"
"Courage," mocked Guillaume, leaning closer to her across the table—"courage, little sister. After all——"
He paused, watching her eyes dilate with sudden dread as she filled in the unspoken words.
"No," she cried at length, and her voice rose in a quick, decisive tone, "I cannot do it, Guillaume; sooner than be thy tool in this work I will—I will——"