Starved Beast. Part 17

I shook my head and told her to be quiet and stand up, and so she stood, although she swayed from one side to the other, her legs giving out from beneath her.

"Listen to me, Mademoiselle," I coughed. "I don't have to oblige you. I don't have to give you any pleasure and I'll not be beholden to a woman, and certainly not the daughter of the Marquis de Lyons. Annoy me and I'll call out for the brigands. Are they outside? Are they close by? Do you think so? I imagine that if they caught you here they'd lead you down the Champs Elysees on the back of a cart. You'd be naked and publicly displayed, tied up, and at the end of the journey you'd be laid on the machine at the Place Louis XVI and they'd cut off your head. Is that what you want?"

She whimpered, and her head was delicately bowed. "No, monsieur."

"Then take off that dress! Don't argue! Just do as I tell you. Now. And once it's off, where shall we hang it? On which stone? On this one? What about here next to thi