“Etienne,” said I.
“Oh, Monsieur——”
“Etienne,” said I.
“Well, then,” she cried, beautifully flushed and desperate, “consider, Etienne, that this young officer will be taken back to your army and will be starved or frozen, for if, as I hear, your own soldiers have a hard march, what will be the lot of a prisoner?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“You have a kind face, Etienne,” said she; “you would not condemn this poor man to certain death. I entreat you to let him go.”
Her delicate hand rested upon my sleeve, her dark eyes looked imploringly into mine.
A sudden thought passed through my mind. I would grant her request, but I would demand a favour in return.
At my order the prisoner was brought up into the room.
“Captain Barakoff,” said I, “this young lady has begged me to release you, and I am inclined to do so. I would ask you to give your parole that you will remain in this dwelling for twenty-four hours, and take no steps to inform anyone of our movements.”