IT was indeed a desperate situation in which Gerard and Gabrielle found themselves, and for a few moments Gabrielle could do no more than cling to her lover and stare at the door, overcome by terror. Then, shaking off her lethargy, she once more begged him in an impassioned whisper to fly.
“You must not ask it, Gabrielle; nor will he dare to harm either of us when I tell him I am Bourbon’s son.”
“He will; he will, I know him and you do not,” she urged strenuously. “Within the last few hours he swore to have your life, if I would not consent to marry him. If he finds us together he will have you slain before my eyes. For the love of God, fly while there is yet time.”
“Will you risk it with me?”
“Yes, yes, anything; anything rather than that he find you here,” she answered desperately.
At this moment they heard the key fitted into the lock and Pierre’s voice as he replied to the Governor’s reproaches. But before the key could be turned, Gerard dragged the pallet to the door and wedging it against an angle of the wall, improvised a barrier which jammed the door fast.
The key was turned and those outside strained to thrust the door back; and Pierre’s deep voice was heard declaring that the lock was wedged.
“Come, Gabrielle, quick.” Gerard drew her to the window and, getting out, stood upon the ladder and held his arms waiting in a fever of impatience for her to follow. She went to the window and looked out, but with a gasp of fear shrank back, appalled by the far descent, and shuddered.
“Heaven help me, Gerard, I dare not,” she cried. Her nerve failed at the look of yawning darkness, and when at the same moment a great knocking sounded against the cell door, she fell on her knees on the floor and buried her face in her hands.
“Come, Gabrielle, courage,” said Gerard. “Trust yourself to me and all will be well.”