And still he said nothing, and she, cowed by his mysterious gaiety, yet
spurning herself for her cowardice, was silent also. He hoped to arrive
at Angers before nightfall. What, she wondered, shivering, would happen
there? What was he planning to do to her? How would he punish her?
Brave as she was, she was a woman, with a woman's nerves; and fear and
anticipation got upon them; and his silence--his silence which must mean
a thing worse than words!
And then on a sudden, piercing all, a new thought. Was it possible that
he had other letters? If his bearing were consistent with anything, it
was consistent with that. Had he other genuine letters, or had he
duplicate letters, so that he had lost nothing, but instead had gained
the right to rack and torture her, to taunt and despise her?
That thought stung her into sudden self-betrayal. They were riding along
a broad dusty track which bordered a stone causey raised above the level
of winter floods. Impulsively she turned to him.
"You have other letters!" she cried. "You have other letters!" And
freed for the moment from her terror, she fixed her eyes on his and
strove to read his face.
He looked at her, his mouth grown hard. "What do you mean, Madame?" he
asked, "You have other letters?"
"For whom?"
"From the King, for Angers!"
He saw that she was going to confess, that she was going to derange his
cherished plan; and unreasonable anger awoke in the man who had been more
than willing to forgive a real injury.
"Will you explain?" he said between his teeth. And his eyes glittered
unpleasantly. "What do you mean?"
"You have other letters," she cried, "besides those which I stole."
"Which you stole?" He repeated the words without passion. Enraged by
this unexpected turn, he hardly knew how to take it.
"Yes, I!" she cried. "I! I took them from under your pillow!"
He was silent a minute. Then he laughed and shook his head.
"It will not do, Madame," he said, his lip curling. "You are clever, but
you do not deceive me."
"Deceive you?"
"Yes."
"You do not believe that I took the letters?" she cried in great
amazement.
"No," he answered, "and for a good reason." He had hardened his heart
now. He had chosen his line, and he would not spare her.
"Why, then?" she cried. "Why?"
"For the best of all reasons," he answered. "Because the person who
stole the letters was seized in the act of making his escape, and is now
in my power."
"The person--who stole the letters?" she faltered.
"Yes, Madame."
"Do you mean M. de Tignonville?"
"You have said it."
She turned white to the lips, and trembling, could with difficulty sit
her horse. With an effort she pulled it up, and he stopped also. Their
attendants were some way ahead.