He glanced around to see us still standing there.
“Not gone!” he cried furiously. “Body of God! Are we all to die, then—and the women, too? Fools! Cowards!”
“He is right,” said M. le Comte hoarsely. “He is right, Tavernay—it is cowardice holds us here! We must go if we would save the women. Pasdeloup,” he said, “I thank thee. I honor thee. Thou art a better man than I!”
“Go, monsieur!—go!” urged Pasdeloup. “I am paying my debt. My life has been yours any time these twenty years. It is nothing. Go!”
Without a word, M. le Comte turned and started up the stair. I followed him, my eyes blurred with tears. And as we went we heard a rush of feet behind us, then a chorus of groans and yells which told us that the attack had begun and that Pasdeloup stood firm.
And M. le Comte’s words were ringing in my head.
Pasdeloup, Pasdeloup! A better man than I! A better man than I!
CHAPTER XV.
THE END OF GABRIELLE’S TOWER.
Not until we had reached the platform and come out into the clear moonlight and the radiance of the glow cast by the flames was it possible for us to examine the rope and ascertain if Pasdeloup had really provided us with a means of escape. It was a cord, light, but of unusual strength, which had been passed from side to side of the bed to support the bedding, and was not rotted as I had feared. But it was too short—a glance told me that—too short by many feet to reach from the parapet to the ground.
“We must use one of the windows,” I said; and M. le Comte assented with a motion of the head.