“I should meet him in open field, sword to sword, and shield to shield, and kill him.”
Igraine started suddenly, grave and grey as any beadswoman. She did not think Pelleas would have taught any such doctrine.
“To you, that is love?” she asked.
“What else!”
Igraine thrust her silver bodkin into her hair with some vigour; there was no mirth or patience in her.
“I name it murder.”
“Madame!”
“Stark, selfish murder.”
Gorlois spread his hands and laughed.