CHAPTER XL
"Monsieur Emile, what is it?" exclaimed Vere.
The frightened servants were gone, half coaxed and half scolded into
silence by Artois. He had taken the lemon from Peppina, and it lay now
in his hand.
"It is what the people of Naples call a death-charm."
"A death-charm?"
In her eyes superstition dawned.
"Why do they call it that?"
"Because it is supposed to bring death to any one--any enemy--near
whom it is placed."
"Who can have put it in the house to-night?" Vere said. Her voice was
low and trembling. "Who can have wished to bring death here to-night?"
"I don't know, Vere."
"And such a thing--could it bring death?"
"Vere! You can ask me!"
He spoke with an attempt at smiling irony, but his eyes held something
of the awe, the cloudy apprehension that had gathered in hers.
"Where is your mind?" he added.
She answered: "Are you going to Madre's room, Monsieur Emile?"
He put the death-charm down quickly, as if it had burned his hand.
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