“They have come to seek him,” said the duchess.
“The more reason that he should sign quickly.”
“Sign, Valois, sign!” roared Gorenflot.
“You gave me till midnight,” said the king, piteously.
“Ah! you hoped to be rescued.”
“He shall die if he does not sign!” cried the duchess. Gorenflot offered him the pen. The noise outside redoubled.
“A new troop!” cried a monk; “they are surrounding the abbey!”
“The Swiss,” cried Foulon, “are advancing on the right!”
“Well, we will defend ourselves; with such a hostage in our hands, we need not surrender.”
“He has signed!” cried Gorenflot, tearing the paper from Henri, who buried his face in his hands.