Then she looked at her sister with cold determination.
Seeing that immediate action was imperative, Leonie seized the papers that she had put aside and thrust them into the bosom of the shirt she wore.
Fortunately, in imitating the dress of the poorer classes, she had put on a shirt without a linen bosom, but one that opened down the front.
She buttoned it quickly, then faced her companion resolutely.
"If this is to be a fight for possession," she said, coolly, "it might be fair for me to point out to you my superior advantages. It is true that you have that knife in your hand, but you have nothing like the strength that I have, and my dress will be of the greatest possible benefit to me. I warn you that it will be only with my life that I will resign the papers that are more to me than all the world. Do you still intend to contend for their possession?"
"Your question is not worthy of an answer. You know that in your bosom you hold more than life to me—you hold happiness and honor. For the last time I ask you to give them up! I do not intend to purchase them, but I mean to take them by force if you still refuse. What is your answer? Make it for the last time, and quickly!"
The two women, both desperate, faced each other with a resolve that meant life or death.
There was not the slightest evidence of weakness or fear in either, but a cold determination that was horrible.
There was the undoubted resemblance of sisterhood between them as they stood apparently revolving their plans of action.
Leonie knew full well that there was not the slightest chance for her.