She worked at her handkerchief again, winking back her tears, and he had a chance to see how her face had hollowed and how weak she looked. He remembered that Emily had said she had refused food, and it occurred to him that they were cruel to her; that she resented their cruelty. But, all the while, he saw that boyish face in the dingy light of the cell, and his heart grew hot within him. He wouldn’t spare her.
“You want to know about Corwin?”
Her voice was very low. Daniel assented, and she seemed to struggle with herself.
“Dieu!” she cried softly.
“As soon as you can, please,” said Daniel, watching her, wondering if now, under this stress and pain, she would tell the truth. He doubted it.
“Do you remember what I told you in the library that day?” she asked abruptly. “About my father and my mother and the convent?”
“Yes.”
“It was a lie,” said Fanchon. “It was the same lie that I told William.”
Daniel looked at her grimly, unsparingly.
“I hope you’re going to tell me the truth now,” he said sternly.