“It is nothing—it will pass,” replied the other. “Leave me here. I will follow anon.”
“The sight of that man troubles you,” said Marphisc, noticing the direction of her friend's gaze. “Who is he? I must know.”
Instead of making any reply to the question, Marcelline sprang forward, and called out to Pomperant, “Away, or you are lost!”
But before he could move a step, even if he intended to depart, Marphise was by his side.
“You are a stranger in Marseilles!” she cried. “I arrest you as a spy.”
“No, let him go; he is no spy,” interposed Marcelline. “Imprudent that you are to come here,” she added, in an under tone, to her lover.
“It is as I suspected!” cried Marphise. “I am certain he is from the enemy's camp. This man is also with him,” she added, pointing to Hugues.
“If I tell you who he is, Marphise, will you allow him to depart?” whispered Marcelline.
“I know not that,” rejoined the other. “But speak!”
“It is the Seigneur Pomperant,” replied Marcelline.