The girl looked up at the man's entrance, but did not rise. "You are late, Martin," she said.
"A little," the new-comer answered. "How do you do, Master Andrew? What news of Aubergenville?" And then, not without a trace of affection in his tone, "What, still vexing, my girl?" he added, laying a hand on the girl's shoulder. "You have too soft a heart for this business. I always said so."
She sighed, but made no answer.
"You have made up your mind to it, I hear," said the innkeeper.
"That is it. Needs must when the devil drives!" the man replied jauntily. He had a bold, reckless, determined air; yet in his face I thought I saw still surviving some traces of a better spirit.
"The devil in this case was the Duke," quoth Andrew.
"Ay, curse him! I would I had cut the dog's liver out before he crossed my threshold," cried the man, with passion. "But there, 'tis done! It is too late to say that now. What has to be done, has to be done."
"How are you going about it? Poison, the mistress says. And it is safest."
"Yes, she will have it so; but, if I had my way," the man continued hardily, "I would out one of these nights and cut the dogs' throats without more."
"You could never escape, Martin!" the girl cried, clasping her hands and rising in excitement. "It would be hopeless. It would be throwing away your own life. And besides, you promised me."