Pierre. He leaned a little farther over the table.
"And I, too, must fight," he added. "You know our law, St. Pierre.
We don't go back without our man--unless we happen to die. And I
would be stupid if I did not understand the situation here. It
would be quite easy for you to get rid of me. But I don't believe
you are a murderer, even if your Jeanne tried to be." A flicker of
a smile crossed his lips. "And Marie-Anne--I beg pardon!--your
wife--"
St. Pierre interrupted him. "It will please me to have you call
her Marie-Anne. And it will please her also, m'sieu. Dieu, if we
only had eyes that could see what is in a woman's heart! Life is
funny, m'sieu. It is a great joke, I swear it on my soul!"
He shrugged his shoulders, smiling again straight into David's
eyes. "See what has happened! You set out for a murderer. My
Jeanne makes a great mistake and shoots you. Then she pities you,
saves your life, brings you here, and--ma foi! it is true--learns
to care for you more than she should! But that does not make me
want to kill you. Non, her happiness is mine. Dead men tell no
tales, m'sieu, but there are times when living men also keep tales
to themselves.
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