"Because we are of like blood—that is all!" answered Jean, coolly.
"Like blood! Hear him—hear him! He and I—he—he and I of like blood, and he a del' Peyra! And I—I am a Noémi!"
"So—Noémi! That is your name?"
"And I," continued the girl in her raging wrath, "I—learn this—I am the child of Le Gros Guillem. Have you ever heard of the Gros Guillem?" she asked in a tone of triumph, like the blast of a victor's trumpet.
Jean lowered his staff, and looked steadily at her. His brows were contracted, his lips were set firm.
"So!" he said, after a pause. "The daughter of Gros Guillem?"
"Aye—have you heard of him?"
"Of course I have heard of him."
"And of the del' Peyras who ever heard?" asked the girl with mockery and scorn, and snapped her fingers.
"No—God be thanked!—of the del' Peyras you have never heard as of the Gros Guillem."