"Even if he had not succeeded in killing St. Udo, his intention would make him worthy of death," remarked the chevalier.
"Ah, yes, worthy of twenty deaths!" cried Margaret, wringing her hands.
"Mademoiselle loves the brave man who was murdered?" insinuated the chevalier, in softest accents.
She grew white as death, and the great tears rushed from her eyes.
"What does it matter now?" she moaned. "I do love him—ah, I do love him!"
Then did the little man rise and expand with warm enthusiasm—then did his handsome face glow with rapture and with pride.
He put on a smile of most gracious benevolence, he drank in the rich love-light upon her eloquent countenance, and then he cried, joyfully:
"Incomparable mademoiselle! you deserve good news. We shall hang the dog, and then resurrect the master; for, Viola! Colonel Brand is not dead yet!"