“I beg you, Countess of Cagliostro, not to look at me with such furious eyes. If I hadn’t given you a bit of a shock with a view to weaken your power of resistance, you would not have whispered a word of that interesting story; and where should we be now? One day or other Beaumagnan would have scooped up the thousand millions and left poor little Josephine biting her nails. So come now! A sweet smile instead of that horrid scowl.”
“You had the audacity ... You dared ... And all those threats.... All that pressure to make me speak.... It was a farce! I’ll never forgive you—never!”
“Oh, yes you will,” he said in a cheerful, mocking tone. “You’ll forgive me all right—when you’ve recovered from that little wound to your vanity. All this has nothing to do with our love, you know. It counts for nothing between people devoted to one another, like us. One day one scratches, next day the other ... until perfect concord is attained on every point.”
“Always supposing a rupture does not take place first,” she said between her teeth.
“A rupture?... A rupture merely because I’ve relieved you of a few little secrets?”
But Josephine still looked so flabbergasted that he had to laugh outright, and fairly dancing up and down, like a delighted child, he went on:
“Lord, madam is annoyed!... And just because I’ve tried one of her own little tricks on her!... Really you ought not to lose your temper about a little thing like that.... It makes me laugh.”
She was no longer paying any attention to him. She pulled the rug off Leonard, pulled the handkerchief out of his mouth, and cut through his bonds.
Leonard leaped at Ralph, like a wild beast unchained.
“Don’t touch him!” she cried.