"That shall be my secret," answered I. (Yet well I knew what the
answer was, and had known it since the moment she had bent over me in
the sty, filing at my chain.) "It had better be hate--eh,
Marc'antonio?--seeing that for some reason she hates all men, except
you, perhaps, and Stephanu, and her brother."
"We do not count, I and Stephanu. Her brother she adores. But the
rest of men she hates, cavalier, and with good cause."
"Then it had better be hate?"
"Yes, yes"--and there was appeal in his voice--"it had a thousand
times better be hate, could such a miracle happen." He peered into
my eyes for a moment, and shook his head. "But it is not hate,
cavalier; you do not deceive me. And since it is not--"
"Well?"
"It were better for you--far better--that Giuse had died of the wound
you gave him."
"Why, what on earth has Giuse to do with this matter?" I demanded.
Indeed I had all but forgotten Giuse's existence.
"Only this; that had Giuse died, they would have killed you out of
hand in _vendetta_."
"You are an amiable race, you Corsicans!"
"And you came, cavalier, meaning to reign over us! Now, I have taken
a liking to you and will give you a warning.
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