"You told me that once before; also, that she was your child, but I did not believe you," answered Carmontelle.
She glared at him angrily, and said:
"Well, part of it was untrue, but so much the worse for the girl. She might better be my child than the offspring of a slave with a taint of African blood in her veins!"
"Woman!"
Eliot had sprung at her fiercely and clutched her white shoulder in a grasp like steel. He shook her wildly in a tempest of rage.
"Unsay that lie!" he hissed, fiercely, with blazing eyes. Madame turned, shrieking, to Carmontelle.
"Make him take his hands off me!" she panted, in terror. "Do not let him kill me for telling the truth!"
It looked indeed as if her life was in danger, for Eliot's face worked with fury, and sparks of fire seemed to flash from his angry eyes. It was with the greatest difficulty that Carmontelle dragged him away from the frightened woman and forced him into a seat.
"Be calm," he said. "Do not let her lies put you into a passion."
"Prove them lies if you can!" she screamed, losing her self-possession in anger at his incredulity.