In silence she waited.
At length abruptly he began to speak.
"Have you," he asked, "given any thought to your position here? Have you
made any plans for yourself in the event of a rising?"
Her eyelids quivered a little, but she did not raise them.
"I do not think," she said, her voice very low, "that the time has yet
come for making plans."
Dumaresq threw back his head with a movement that seemed to indicate
either impatience or surprise.
"You are living on the edge of a volcano," he told her, with grim force;
"and at any moment you may be overwhelmed. Have you never faced that
yet? Haven't you yet begun to realise that Maritas is a hotbed of
scoundrels--the very scum and rabble of creation--blackguards whom their
own countries have, for the most part, refused to tolerate--some of them
half-breeds, all of them savages? Haven't you yet begun to ask yourself
what you may expect from these devils when they take the law into their
own hands? I tell you, mademoiselle, it may happen this very night. It
may be happening now!"
She raised her eyes at that--dark eyes that gleamed momentarily and were
as swiftly lowered. When she spoke, her low voice held a thrill of
scorn.
"Not now, monsieur," she said. "To-night--possibly! But not now--not
without you to lead them!"
Pierre Dumaresq made a slight movement. It could not have been called a
menace, though it was in a fashion suggestive of violence
suppressed--the violence of the baited bull not fully roused to the
charge.
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