I could scarcely speak.
'Do you never repent ?' she said.
'Yes.

But too late, Mademoiselle.' 'Perhaps it is never too late,' she answered softly.
'Alas, when a man is dead--' 'You may rob a man of worse than life!' she replied with energy, stopping me by a gesture.

'If you have never robbed a man--or a woman--of honour! If you have never ruined boy or girl, M.de Berault! If you have never pushed another into the pit and gone by it yourself! If--but, for murder?
Listen.

You are a Romanist, but I am a Huguenot, and have read.

"Thou shall not kill!" it is written; and the penalty, "By man shall thy blood be shed!" But, "If you cause one of these little ones to offend, it were better for you that a mill-stone were hanged about your neck, and that you were cast into the depths of the sea."' 'Mademoiselle, you are merciful,' I muttered.
'I need mercy myself,' she answered, sighing.