"Here's the coward and traitor."
Vardri wheeled round, looking straight into the cold eyes of his
leader. He had heard the last words. She was safe, that was all that
mattered, and for himself he was reckless.
"Traitor, am I? Yes, if the Cause is to include the ill-treatment of
women!"
"Women? Again women? Are our meetings to be used as love trysts.
There was a certain episode two years ago--Gaston de Barres and Felise
Rivaz--you remember it? Ah, I thought so! Then let it be a
warning--in the future you will be suspected and watched. There is no
need for me to dilate upon the punishment for treachery, all that you
knew when you joined us. You may consider yourself lucky to have
escaped so easily to-night. Through the few minutes' delay you have
caused, Poleski may have been arrested."
Vardri shrugged and sat down. Like Arithelli, he recognized the
futility of mere words upon certain occasions.
Moreover, now that the flame of his indignation had died down, he had
begun to feel wretchedly ill and spiritless with the reaction that
comes after any great excitement.
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