(O, but those words were
sweet! and for the first time I blessed her.) "But coward or no
coward, he is our hostage, and you must not kill him."
He turned to the priest, who all this while had stood with head on
one side, eyes aslant, and the air and attitude of a stranger who
having stumbled on a family squabble politely awaits its termination.
"Father Domenico, is my sister right? And may I not kill this man?"
"She is right," answered the reverend father, with something like a
sigh. "You cannot kill him consistently with honour, though I admit
the provocation to be great. The Princess appears to have committed
herself to something like a pledge." He paused here, and with his
tongue moistened his loose lips. "Moreover," he continued, "to kill
him, on our present information, would be inadvisable. I know--at
least I have heard--something of this Sir John Constantine whom the
young man asserts to be his father; and, by what has reached me, he
is capable of much."
"Do you mean," asked the Prince, bridling angrily, "that I am to fear
him?"
"Not at all," the priest answered quickly, still with his eyes
aslant.
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