or was it the devil?
Hers! She was his; here was a sword to bend that proud neck.

Ten thousand livres?
There was more than that, more than that by a hundred times.

Passion first, or avarice; love or greed?
He would decide that question later.

He slipped the paper into the pocket of the cloak.
Curiosity drew him toward the drawer again.

There was an old commission in the musketeers, signed by Louis XIII; letters from Madame de Longueville; an unsigned _lettre-de-cachet_; an accounting of the revenues of the various chateaus; and a long envelope, yellow with age.
He picked it out of the drawer and blew away the dust.