The priest
sneered. "Hearts are soon mended--especially women's," he said.
"But not Kit's!" Croisette said passionately--otherwise ignoring
him. "Not Kit's! You do not know her, Vidame! Indeed you do
not!"
The remark was ill-timed. I saw a spasm of anger distort Bezers'
face. "Get up, boy!" he snarled, "I wrote to Mademoiselle what
I would do, and that I shall do! A Bezers keeps his word. By
the God above us--if there be a God, and in the devil's name I
doubt it to-night!--I shall keep mine! Go!"
His great face was full of rage. He looked over Croisette's head
as he spoke, as if appealing to the Great Registrar of his vow,
in the very moment in which he all but denied Him. I turned and
stole back the way I had come; and heard Croisette follow.
That little scene completed my misery. After that I seemed to
take no heed of anything or anybody until I was aroused by the
grating of our gaoler's key in the lock, and became aware that he
was gone, and that we were alone in a small room under the tiles.
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