Woe to you, Lysbeth van Hout, if you cut me off before my work is done.

I fear not death, nay I welcome it, but I tell you I have work to do before I die." Now, in an agony of mind, Lysbeth turned and looked at Montalvo.
The Count was a man of keen perceptions, and understood it all.

Leaning forward, his arm resting on the back of the sledge, as though to contemplate the prisoner, he whispered into Lysbeth's ear, so low that no one else could hear his words.
"Senora," he said, "I have no wishes in this matter.

I do not desire to drown that poor mad woman, but if you confirm the spy's story, drown she must.

At present I am not satisfied, so everything turns upon your evidence.