"In Heaven's name, who are you?" demanded Jack.
There was no answer; then Jack repeated his question in French. This time there came an answer.
"One—one who loved her, Monsieur! By what right are you here?
"By as great a right as yours—as one who loved her, too."
Jack thought he heard a curse between clenched teeth.
"Love? Peste! What does a cold-blooded Anglais know of love? You come here as a thief in the night."
"Thief!" Jack exclaimed. "I suppose you know the meaning of the words you have used?"
"Parbleu! How could I do otherwise, since Monsieur himself has provided me with an illustration? Is it the act of an honest man to steal into a chamber? Is it the act of a gentleman to encroach upon another's grief? No; it is the act of a vauvien; for it is insult to the living and profanation to the dead."
The man was evidently distraught with grief; so Jack replied calmly, "You talk of profanation to the dead. It would indeed be profanation were I to imitate your language. I am willing to admit that you excel in your nice selection of epithets, but I deny your love for the poor dead girl lying here by your use of them."
