She is a noble child.

Give her back to her home and her people.

Do not soil and spoil her sweet life." It was the sing-song voice used by Father Beret in his sermons and prayers; but something went with it indescribably touching.

Farnsworth felt a lump rise in his throat and his eyes were ready to show tears.
"Father," he said, with difficulty making his words distinct, "I would not harm Miss Roussillon to save my own life, and I would do anything--" he paused slightly, then added with passionate force; "I would do anything, no matter what, to save her from the terrible thing that now threatens her." Father Beret's countenance changed curiously as he gazed at the young man and said: "If you really mean what you say, you can easily save her, my son." "Father, by all that is holy, I mean just what I say." "Swear not at all, my son, but give me your hand." The two men stood with a tight grip between them and exchanged a long, steady, searching gaze.
A drizzling rain had begun to fall again, with a raw wind creeping from the west.
"Come with me to my house, my son," Father Beret presently added; and together they went, the priest covering Alice's sword from the rain with the folds of his cassock..