Page:Stanley Weyman--Count Hannibal.djvu/225

Rh interposed and hid them from the two whom they had left; then he leaned forward.

“Now, Madame!” he cried imperiously. “In God’s name, now!”

“Oh!” she cried. “Wait! Wait! I want to think.”

“To think?”

“He trusted me!” she wailed. “He trusted me! How can I do it?” Nevertheless, and even while she spoke, she drew forth the packet.

“Heaven has given you the opportunity!”

“If I could have stolen it!” she answered.

“Fool!” he returned, rocking himself to and fro, and fairly beside himself with impatience. “Why steal it? It is in your hands! You have it! It is Heaven’s own opportunity, it is God’s opportunity given to you!”

For he could not read her mind nor comprehend the scruple which held her hand. He was single-minded. He had but one aim, one object. He saw the haggard faces of brave men hopeless; he heard the dying cries of women and children. Such an opportunity of saving God’s elect, of redeeming the innocent, was in his eyes a gift from Heaven. And having these thoughts and seeing her hesitate—hesitate when every movement caused him agony, so imperative was haste, so precious the opportunity—he could bear the suspense no longer. When she did not answer he stooped forward, until his knees touched the thwart on which Carlat had sat; then, without a word, he flung himself forward, and, with one hand far extended, grasped the packet.

Had he not moved, she would have done his will; almost certainly she would have done it. But, thus attacked, she resisted instinctively; she clung to the letters.

“No!” she cried. “No! Let go, Monsieur!” And she tried to drag the packet from him.

“Give it me!”