"What shall I do?" cried he, "what shall I do?"
Laurence drew him to her, and muttered in a shuddering voice:
"Save the name of Tremorel; there are pistols here."
He recoiled, as if he had seen death itself.
"No," said he. "I can yet fly and conceal myself; I will go alone, and you can rejoin me afterward."
"I have already told you that it is too late. The police have surrounded the house. And—you know—it is the galleys, or—the scaffold!"
"I can get away by the courtyard."
"It is guarded; look."
He ran to the window, saw M. Lecoq's men, and returned half mad and hideous with terror.
"I can at least try," said he, "by disguising myself—"