human
Murdered, I say! she replied, still with the glare in her eyes.
gpt
Murdered! Wrongfully accused, foully tried, falsely condemned. Done to death wickedly as a _braconnier_. But he was none--yet there he swings. O God! that life can be so easily torn from us by the powerful!
human
Who, then, has done this deed? St. Georges asked, deeply stirred by the woman's wild sorrow, perhaps also by the gloomy surroundings.
gpt
Who can do such things as this, even though powerful?
human
Who? she replied.
gpt
Who? Who but one in these parts? The hound, De Roquemaure!
human
De Roquemaure! St. Georges exclaimed with a start that caused his trembling horse to move forward, thinking that he had pressed its flanks to urge it on, which start was perfectly perceptible to the unhappy woman.
gpt
De Roquemaure!
human
You know him? she asked eagerly, bending her face toward and up to him so that he could see her pale lips--lips, indeed, almost as pale as her cheeks--
gpt
I know of him,
human
And hate him, perhaps, as I do. It may be, would kill him as I would. Is it so? Answer me?