"I think it will
be better to burn his brains instead," he said. "Stand away from
him, madame."
Far from obeying that imperious command, Mme. de Plougastel rose
to her feet to cover the Marquis with her body. But she still
clung to his arm, clung to it with unsuspected strength that
continued to prevent him from attempting to use the pistol.
"Andre! For God's sake, Andre!" she panted hoarsely over her
shoulder.
"Stand away, madame," he commanded her again, more sternly, "and
let this murderer take his due. He is jeopardizing all our lives,
and his own has been forfeit these years. Stand away!" He sprang
forward with intent now to fire at his enemy over her shoulder, and
Aline moved too late to hinder him.
"Andre! Andre!"
Panting, gasping, haggard of face, on the verge almost of hysteria,
the distracted Countess flung at last an effective, a terrible
barrier between the hatred of those men, each intent upon taking
the other's life.
"He is your father, Andre! Gervais, he is your son - our son! The
letter there.
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