But, with the consciousness of danger, and still more with the knowledge of the responsibility which devolved upon them, M. Périères had recovered his wonted coolness. He was now, in reality, the man described one evening by Madame de Guéran in a few words—firm, courageous, intrepid as M. de Morin, without his imprudence. He was, so to speak, transformed in a second; his voice no longer had the same tone, his very look was changed. The two Arabs in his train saw this resolution at once. They felt that they were commanded by one of those leaders whom soldiers love to obey.
M. Périères, without turning his head or losing sight of his adversaries, issued his orders to the escort—
"When I raise my hand," he said, "cover these people with your rifles, but do not fire until I give the word."
The shouts and threats continued.
"Tell your women and children to withdraw," said M. Périères, addressing the chief.
The chief did not condescend to reply.
The European raised his hand.
M. Delange, his two interpreters, and his two sailors unslung their rifles from their saddles and brought them up to their shoulders.
The women and children at once fled, with cries of terror, in all directions. But, at the same time the Nomads cocked their carbines.
M. Périères once more addressed the chief.