“Yes, yes—I know it,” mattered Pascal; “but before he passes through yonder door, you have time to say ‘yes.’ I implore you, madame, to grant me what I ask. Give me Teresa—place me in the prince’s service!”
“Let me pass,” said Gemma, imperiously, and advanced towards the door; but instead of obeying this order, Bruno sprang to the door and bolted it. “Would you dare to stop me?” cried Gemma, taking hold of the bell. “Help! help!”
“Do not call out, madame,” said Bruno, still mastering his feelings, “for I have told you I will do you no harm.”
A second cry, resembling the first, was heard outside the window.
“It is well—well, Ali; you watch faithfully, my boy,” said Bruno. “Yes, I know the count has arrived; I hear him in the corridor. Madame, madame! an instant longer remains for you; one second, and all the misfortunes I foresee may be avoided.”
“Help, Rodolpho! Help!” screamed Gemma.
“You have, then neither heart, nor soul, nor pity, either for yourself or others,” cried Bruno plunging his hands in his hair and looking at the door, which was being violently shaken.
“I am fastened in!” cired the countess, who felt fresh courage from the assistance which had arrived; “fastened in with a man who is threatening my life. Help! help! Rodolpho, help!”
“I do not threaten you,” said Pascal, “I am entreating you—I entreat you still; but since you will—” Bruno, uttering a yell like that of a tiger, sprang upon Gemma, no doubt with the intention of strangling her, for (as we have said) he had no arms. At the same instant a small door, concealed at the extremity of the alcove, opened, the report of a pistol was heard, the room was filled with smoke, and Gemma fainted: when she recovered her senses she was in the prince’s arms.
“Where is he? where is he?” she cried, in a terrified accent, and looking around her.