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"Of what may you be thinking so seriously?" he said. "Of thirty pieces of silver," she replied instantly. And at these words the marshal turned upon the girl a regard so black and relentless that the Chancellor, happening to encounter it, shrank back abashed, even as some devilkin caught in a fault might shrink from the angry eyes of the Master of Evil.
"Out!" said Gilles de Retz, briefly, and like some inferior imping devilkin before the great Master of Evil, La Meffraye retreated hobbling to the doorway of the marshal's chamber, where she crouched nodding and chuckling, mumbling inaudible words, and mingling them ever with her dry cackling laughter.
I serve up the House-fly, alive. She is accepted, without hesitation. The moment that the Fly comes within reach, the watchful Devilkin turns her head, bends the stalk of her corselet slantwise and, flinging out her fore-limb, harpoons the Fly and grips her between her two saws. No Cat pouncing upon a Mouse could be quicker. The game, however small, is enough for a meal.
The first bite is aimed at the point containing the cervical ganglia and produces sudden death or immobility. Complete inertia will leave the consumer in peace, the essential condition of every satisfactory repast. The Devilkin, therefore, frail though she be, possesses the secret of immediately destroying the resistance of her prey.
"Then you're not quite sure yourself, little devilkin?" "The girl is a riddle. I am not the great reader of riddles." "I didn't call you that. You're only a common little imp." Shangois showed his teeth in a malicious smile. "Why did you set me the riddle, then?" Ferrol continued, his eyes fixed with apparent carelessness on the other's face. "I thought she might have told you the answer."
"Then you're not quite sure yourself, little devilkin?" "The girl is a riddle. I am not the great reader of riddles." "I didn't call you that. You're only a common little imp." Shangois showed his teeth in a malicious smile. "Why did you set me the riddle, then?" Ferrol continued, his eyes fixed with apparent carelessness on the other's face. "I thought she might have told you the answer."
Her larva is certainly the strangest creature among the terrestrial fauna of Provence: a slim, swaying thing of so fantastic an appearance that uninitiated fingers dare not lay hold of it. The children of my neighbourhood, impressed by its startling shape, call it "the Devilkin." In their imaginations, the queer little creature savours of witchcraft.
"Ahem!" she retorted so promptly that he almost fell off his precarious perch. "Did you ring? Number, please." "I wish I knew whether you were laughing at me or not," he said ruefully. "When?" "All the time." "I am. Your darkest suspicions are correct. Did you abolish my devilkin?" "I drove him back into his trapdoor home and put a rock over it." "Why didn't you destroy him?"
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