So she persuaded
the man to turn traitor and run away to England with her, where they
proposed to get married.
"Their plans came out,--naturally,--those things generally do. We all
spy upon each other. They both felt so secure that they came together
to a last meeting--I can show you the house if you like. It's down in
the Parelelo, the revolutionary quarter.
"They strangled the woman, and cut off her arm above the elbow--I
remember she had a thick gold bracelet round it with a date (a _gage
d'amour_ from her lover I suppose)--and they made him drink the blood.
He went mad afterwards. The best thing he could do under the
circumstances." Emile shrugged.
"There are plenty more similar _histoires_. But perhaps I have told
you enough to convince you of the futility of attempting to draw back
from what you have undertaken."
Still there was neither movement nor answer. Emile got up, and came to
the bed.
"_Allons_! It's time you were dressing. You'll be late again, and one
of these days you'll find yourself dismissed. You must just go on and
put up with it all.
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