"A human sun."
"So."
"That loves to be thought great through warming the universe."
"Madame, you are epigrammatic."
"Or enigmatic, messire."
"As you will," he answered her; "your womanhood makes you an enigma; it is your birthright. Understand that I possess power."
"Fifty cut-throats tied to a purse."
"Consider me a serious figure in the world's sum."
"As you will, messire. You are an outlaw, a leader of fifty vagabonds, a man with ideals as to the establishing of justice. You are going to subvert the country. Very good. I have learnt my lesson. But how is all this going to help me out of the wood?"
Fulviac took his sword, and balanced it upon his wrist. The red light from the fire flashed on the swaying steel.