The noise startled the banditti, who became suddenly silent, and then all rushed to the passage, to examine whether any person was there, who might have overheard their councils. Blanche saw them approaching, and perceived their fierce and eager looks: but, before she could raise herself, they discovered and seized her, and, as they dragged her towards the chamber they had quitted, her screams drew from them horrible threatenings.
Having reached the room, they began to consult what they should do with her. “Let us first know what she had heard,” said the chief robber. “How long have you been in the passage, lady, and what brought you there?”
“Let us first secure that picture,” said one of his comrades, approaching the trembling Blanche. “Fair lady, by your leave that picture is mine; come, surrender it, or I shall seize it.”
Blanche, entreating their mercy, immediately gave up the miniature, while another of the ruffians fiercely interrogated her, concerning what she had overheard of their conversation, when, her confusion and terror too plainly telling what her tongue feared to confess, the ruffians looked expressively upon one another, and two of them withdrew to a remote part of the room, as if to consult further.
“These are diamonds, by St. Peter!” exclaimed the fellow, who had been examining the miniature, “and here is a very pretty picture too, “faith; as handsome a young chevalier, as you would wish to see by a summer’s sun. Lady, this is your spouse, I warrant, for it is the spark, that was in your company just now.”
Blanche, sinking with terror, conjured him to have pity on her, and, delivering him her purse, promised to say nothing of what had passed, if he would suffer her to return to her friends.
He smiled ironically, and was going to reply, when his attention was called off by a distant noise; and, while he listened, he grasped the arm of Blanche more firmly, as if he feared she would escape from him, and she again shrieked for help.
The approaching sounds called the ruffians from the other part of the chamber. “We are betrayed,” said they; “but let us listen a moment, perhaps it is only our comrades come in from the mountains, and if so, our work is sure; listen!”
A distant discharge of shot confirmed this supposition for a moment, but, in the next, the former sounds drawing nearer, the clashing of swords, mingled with the voices of loud contention and with heavy groans, were distinguished in the avenue leading to the chamber. While the ruffians prepared their arms, they heard themselves called by some of their comrades afar off, and then a shrill horn was sounded without the fortress, a signal, it appeared, they too well understood; for three of them, leaving the Lady Blanche to the care of the fourth, instantly rushed from the chamber.
While Blanche, trembling, and nearly fainting, was supplicating for release, she heard amid the tumult, that approached, the voice of St. Foix, and she had scarcely renewed her shriek, when the door of the room was thrown open, and he appeared, much disfigured with blood, and pursued by several ruffians. Blanche neither saw, nor heard any more; her head swam, her sight failed, and she became senseless in the arms of the robber, who had detained her.