rage,
resolved to have recourse to a stratagem.

After some minutes' silence, he said to Faringhea: "I will not leave you.
I will do all I can to save you from a crime. If I do not succeed, the
blood you shed be on your own head. This hand shall never again be locked
in yours."

These words appeared to make a deep impression on Faringhea. He breathed
a long sigh, and, bowing his head upon his breast, remained silent and
full of thought. Djalma prepared, by the faint light of the lamps,
reflected in the interior of the coach, to throw himself suddenly on the
half-caste, and disarm him. But the latter, who saw at a glance the
intention of the prince, drew his kandjiar abruptly from his girdle, and
holding it still in its sheath, said to the prince in a half-solemn,
half-savage tone: "This dagger, in a strong hand, is terrible; and in
this phial is one of the most subtle poisons of our country."

He touched a spring, and the knob at the top of the hilt rose like a lid,
discovering the mouth of a small crystal phial concealed in this
murderous weapon.

"Two or three drops of this poison upon the lips," resumed the half
caste, "and death comes slowly and peacefully, in a few hours, and
without pain. Only, for the first symptom, the nails turn blue. But he
who emptied this phial at a draught would fall dead, as if struck by
lightning."

"Yes," replied Djalma; "I know that our country produces such mysterious
poisons. But why lay such stress on the murderous properties of this
weapon?"

"To show you, my lord, that this kandjiar would ensure the success and
impunity of my vengeance. With the blade I could destroy, and by the
poison escape from human justice. Well, my lord! this kandjiar--take
it--I give it up to you--I renounce my vengeance--rather than render
myself unworthy to clasp again your hand!"

He presented the dagger to the prince, who, as pleased as surprised at
this unexpected determination, hastily secured the terrible weapon
beneath his own girdle; whilst the half-breed continued, in a voice of
emotion: "Deep this kandjiar, my lord--and when you have seen and heard
all that we go to hear and see--you shall either give me the dagger to
strike a wretch--or the poison, to die without striking. You shall
command; I will obey."

Djalma was about to reply, when the coach stopped at the house inhabited
by Sainte-Colombe. The prince and the half-caste, well enveloped in their
mantles, entered a dark porch, and