‘I hope not, Marie.’

’You needn’t be a bit afraid.  I would not do it if they were to kill me.  I hate him,—­and I do so love you.’  Then she leaned with all her weight upon his arm and looked up again into his beautiful face.  ’You will speak to papa; won’t you?’

‘Will that be the best way?’

‘I suppose so.  How else?’

‘I don’t know whether Madame Melmotte ought not—­’

’Oh dear no.  Nothing would induce her.  She is more afraid of him than anybody;—­more afraid of him than I am.  I thought the gentleman always did that.’

‘Of course I’ll do it,’ said Sir...