“The very same, my lord.”
“Well, all I can say is—if ever I get him into my grip again! …”
“My lord,” responded Suzanne, in a voice as soft as music, “you must not harbour evil designs against your enemies; on the contrary, you must forgive them as we are taught to do by our Holy Religion.”
“There is also another religion which teaches that, my dearest love, one of which you are the all-supreme goddess, and I but a humble neophyte. … And I am wrong in wishing evil to the scoundrel, for it was owing to the treacherous and cowardly way in which he attacked and did for me, that I had the opportunity I had so long wished for, of being introduced into this house. The lucky blow on my forehead with his stone, made me faint; and because you saw I had fainted, you called your husband; it was on account of your husband finding me without consciousness beneath your window, and believing I had been set upon by thieves, that he had me carried indoors; and lastly, because you were so moved by pity at the thought of what I had suffered for you, that you were willing to let me in here. And so, this good-for-nothing fellow, this contemptible scamp, is after all the source of all good, for all the good of life for me is in your love; nevertheless if ever he comes within reach of my whip, he will not have a very pleasant time of it.”
“It seems then,” muttered Thibault, swearing to himself, “that my wish has again turned to the advantage of someone else! Ah! my friend, black wolf, I have still something to learn, but, confound it all! I will in future think so well over my wishes before expressing them that the pupil will become master … but to whom does that voice, that I seem to know, belong?” Thibault continued, trying to recall it, “for the voice is familiar to me, of that I am certain!”
“You would be even more incensed against him, poor wretch, if I were to tell you something.”