“You shall not fight! You shall not fight!” she cried, and her voice was so laden with command that all others grew silent and all eyes were turned upon her.
“What affair is this of yours, little one?” quoth Eugène.
“'T is this,” she answered, panting, “that you need fear no marriage 'twixt my sister and Andrea.”
In her eagerness she had cast caution to the winds of heaven. Her father and brother stared askance at her; I gave an inward groan.
“Andrea!” echoed Eugène at last. “What is this man to you that you speak thus of him?”
The girl flung herself upon her father's breast.
“Father,” she sobbed, “dear father, forgive!”
The Chevalier's brow grew dark; roughly he seized her by the arms and, holding her at arm's length, scanned her face.
“What must I forgive?” he inquired in a thick voice. “What is M. de Mancini to you?”
Some sinister note in her father's voice caused the girl to grow of a sudden calm and to assume a rigidity that reminded me of her sister.