Bethink you how it will be between us when you are my wife--if you press me so now, Mademoiselle.

How will it sweeten things then?
How will it soften them?
And to what, I pray you, will you trust for fair treatment then, if you will be so against me now ?" She shuddered.

"To the mercy of my husband," she said in a low voice.
And her chin sank on her breast.
"You will be content to trust to that ?" he answered grimly.

And his tone and the lifting of his brow promised little clemency.

"Bethink you! 'Tis your rights now, and your terms, Mademoiselle! And then it will be only my mercy--Madame." "I am content," she muttered faintly.
"And the Lord have mercy on my soul, is what you would add," he retorted, "so much trust have you in my mercy! And you are right! You are right, since you have played this trick on me.