noon
He let her go then . He fell back with an oath , a patch of fingermarks showing red on his white countenance . `` That blow has killed Florimond de Condillac , '' he told her viciously . `` He dies at noon to-morrow . Ponder it , my pretty . '' `` I care not what you do so that you leave me , '' she answered defiantly , restraining by a brave effort the tears of angry distress that welled up from her stricken heart . And no less stricken , no less angry was Garnache where he listened .