In a month you will thank me--and her." "I am your prisoner ?" "Precisely." "And I must stay here--to be tortured ?" Tignonville cried.
Count Hannibal's eyes sparkled.

Sudden stormy changes, from indifference to ferocity, from irony to invective, were characteristic of the man.
"Tortured!" he repeated grimly.

"You talk of torture while Piles and Pardaillan, Teligny and Rochefoucauld lie dead in the street! While your cause sinks withered in a night, like a gourd! While your servants fall butchered, and France rises round you in a tide of blood! Bah!"-- with a gesture of disdain--"you make me also talk, and I have no love for talk, and small time.

Mademoiselle, you at least act and do not talk.

By your leave I return in an hour, and I bring with me--shall it be my priest, or your minister ?" She looked at him with the face of one who awakes slowly to the full horror, the full dread, of her position.