“Paid!” she echoed mechanically.
“Aye, paid,” he rejoined. “You claimed your brother's life in payment, and I gave it to you. Do you not think that we are quits? Besides,” he ended suddenly, “Captain Tardivet is the master here. Address your appeals to him, Citoyenne.”
With terror written on her face, she turned from him to meet the flushed countenance of Charlot, who, with arms akimbo and his head on one side, was regarding her at once with mockery and satisfaction.
“What do you intend by us, Monsieur?” she questioned in a choking voice.
He smiled inscrutably.
“Allay your fears, Citoyenne; you will find me very gentle.”
“I knew you would prove generous,” she cried.
“But, yes, Citoyenne,” he rejoined, in the tones we employ to those who fear unreasonably. “I shall prove generous; as generous as—as was my lord your father.”
La Boulaye trembled, but his face remained calmly expressionless as he watched that grim scene.
“Monsieur!” Suzanne cried out in horror.