And as he said this in his most insinuating tones，he drew still closer to the gipsy；his caressing arms had resumed their clasp about that slender，pliant waist；his eye kindled more and more，and everything proclaimed that Captain P us was obviously approaching one of those moments at which Jupiter himself behaves so foolishly that worthy old Homer is obliged to draw a cloud over the scene.
Dom Claude，however，saw everything.The door was merely of worm-eaten old puncheon ribs，and left between them ample passage for his vulture gaze.This dark-skinned，broad-shouldered priest，condemned hitherto to the austere chastity of the cloister，shivered and burned alternately at this night-scene of love and passion.The sight of this lovely，dishevelled girl in the arms of a young and ardent lover turned the blood in his veins to molten lead.He felt an extraordinary commotion within him；his eye penetrated with lascivious jealousy under all these unfastened clasps and laces.Any one seeing the wretched man's countenance pressed close against the worm-eaten bars would have taken it for the face of a tiger looking through his cage at some jackal devouring a gazelle.
By a sudden，rapid movement P us snatched the gipsy's kerchief completely off her neck.The poor girl，who had sat pale and dreamy，started from her reverie.She brusquely tore herself away from the too enterprising young officer，and catching sight of her bare neck and shoulders，blushing，confused，and mute with shame，she crossed her beautiful arms over her bosom to hide it.But for the flame that burned in her cheeks，to see her thus standing，silent and motionless，with drooping eyes，you would have taken her for a statue of Modesty.
But this action of the captain's had laid bare the mysterious amulet which she wore round her neck.
'What is that？'he asked，seizing this pretext for once more approaching the beautiful creature he had frightened away.
'Do not touch it，'she answered quickly，'it is my protection.
Through it I shall find my parents again if I remain worthy of that.Oh，leave me，Monsieur le Capitaine！Mother！my poor mother！where art thou？Come to my aid！Have pity，Monsieur P us—give me back my kerchief to cover my bosom.'
But P us drew back coldly.'Ah，mademoiselle，'he said，'I see very plainly that you do not love me！'
'Not love him！'cried the poor unhappy child，clinging wildly to him and drawing him down to the seat beside her.'I do not love thee，my P us？What words are these，cruel，to rend my heart！Oh，come—take me！take all！do with me what thou wilt！I am thine.What matters the amulet！What is my mother to me now！Thou art father and mother to me now，since I love thee！P us，beloved，look at me—see，'tis I—'tis that poor little one whom thou wilt not spurn from thee，and who comes，who comes herself to seek thee.My soul，my life，myself—all，all belong to thee，my captain.Well，so be it—we will not marry，since it is not thy wish.Besides，what am I but a miserable child of the gutter，while thou，my P us，art a gentleman.A fine thing，truly！A dancing girl to espouse an officer！I was mad！No，P us，I will be thy paramour，thy toy，thy pleasure—what thou wilt—only something that belongs to thee—for what else was I made？Soiled，despised，dishonoured，what care Iif only I be loved I shall be the proudest and happiest of women.And when I shall be old and ugly，when I am no longer worthy of your love，monseigneur，you will suffer me to serve you.Others will embroider scarfs for you—I，the handmaid，will have care of them.You will let me polish your spurs，brush your doublet，and rub the dust from off your riding-boots—will you not，P us？You will grant me so much？And meanwhile，take me—I am thine—only love me！We gipsies，that is all we ask—love and the free air of heaven！'
Speaking thus，she threw her arms round the soldier's neck and raised her eyes to his in fond entreaty，smiling through her tears.Her tender bosom was chafed by the woollen doublet and its rough embroidery as the fair，half-nude form clung to his breast.The captain，quite intoxicated，pressed his lips to those exquisite shoulders，and the girl，lying back in his arms，with half-closed eyes，glowed and trembled under his kisses.
Suddenly above the head of P us she beheld another head—a livid，convulsed face with the look as of one of the damned，and beside that face a raised hand holding a dagger.It was the face and the hand of the priest.He had broken in the door and stood behind the pair.P us could not see him.The girl lay motionless，petrified and speechless with terror at the appalling apparition，like a dove that raises her head and catches the terrible keen eye of the hawk fixed upon her nest.
She was unable even to cry out.She saw the dagger descend upon P us and rise again，reeking.
'Malediction！'groaned the captain，and fell.
The girl swooned，but at the moment ere her eyes closed and she lost all consciousness，she seemed to feel a fiery pressure on her lips，a kiss more searing than the brand of the torturer.
When she came to her senses she found herself surrounded by the soldiers of the watch；the captain was being borne away bathed in his blood，the priest had vanished，the window at the back of the room overlooking the river was wide open；they picked up a cloak which they supposed to belong to the officer，and she heard them saying to one another：
'It is a witch who has stabbed a captain.'
