"Pardon me, mademoiselle, I beg that the first use you make of your new life be not to aid my enemies."
"Your enemies, Marteau?"
"The enemies of France, then."
"Not my uncle's France," said the girl.
"But your father's, and I had hoped yours."
"No, no."
"In any event, these gentlemen must remain bound for the time being. No harm shall come to you from me," continued Marteau, addressing the two officers. "But as for these hounds——" He stepped over to the two Cossacks, who lay mute. He bent over them with such a look of rage, ruthless determination and evil purpose in his face as startled the woman into action.
"Monsieur!" she cried, stepping over to him and striving to interpose between him and the two men. "Marteau, what would you do?"
"My sister—dead in the cottage yonder after—after——" he choked out. He stopped, his fingers twitching. "My old father! If I served them right I would pitch them into yonder fireplace or torture them, the dogs, the cowards!"
"My friend," said the young Countess gently, laying her hand on his arm.