"You are trying to tell me that you will denounce me," she said quietly.
The words fell like a thunderbolt. All the blood in Dangeau's body seemed to rush violently to his head, and for a moment he lost himself. He was by her side, his hands catching at her shoulders, where they lay heavy, shaking.
"Look me in the face and say that again!" he thundered in the voice his section knew.
"Ah!" cried Mademoiselle,—"what do you mean, Monsieur? This is an outrage, release me!"
His hands fell, but his eyes held hers. They blazed upon her like heated steel, and the anger in them burned her.
"Ah! you dare not say it again," he said very low.
"Monsieur, I dare." Her gaze met his, and a strange excitement possessed her. She would have been less than woman had she not felt her power—more than woman had she not used it.
Dangeau spoke again, his voice muffled with passion. "You dare say I, Jacques Dangeau, am a spy, an informer, a betrayer of trust?"
Mademoiselle's composure began to return. This man shook when he touched her; she was stronger than he. There was no danger.
"Not quite that, Citizen," she said quietly. "But I did not know what a patriot might consider his duty."