"I see," said the Deputy bitterly; "like the rest of them, you are won over by her beauty!"
"I am too old for that," replied the warder. "I am won over by her charm, if you will; by her sweet nature. And the wife, too, and little Jean; and he is a good judge of character, I can tell you, is little Jean."
Chabot turned away with an expression of disgust.
"She is a devil," he exclaimed, with a tone of intense hatred in his voice, "she is a fiend in human form!"
Richard thought for a moment before replying.
"You may be right, citizen," he said, "but to me, at any rate, she seems a quiet, modest girl enough; and my little Jean, he——"
"Modest!" interrupted Chabot. "Bah! is it modest to force one's way into a man's bedroom? Is murder, cold-blooded murder, a practice that commends itself to modest persons?" He turned round with an angry snarl. "I tell you," he said, "she is a devil!"
The old warder shrugged his shoulders, as he was wont to do when his powers of argument failed him—and argument was not his strong point.
"Well," he stoutly reiterated, "I am sorry for her, nevertheless. She is only a girl; so young, so frail, so delicate——"
"Delicate!" burst in the indignant Deputy. "Why, after she had murdered Marat—and," he smiled sarcastically, "with what delicacy she performed the deed, eh?—when the porter, Laurent Basse, rushed in to seize her, it was only after twice striking her with a chair that he was able to overpower her. Oh, she is a delicate creature, truly!"