"What sentence?" demanded Jean-Claude.
The other, without replying, continued, in a low solemn voice: "Behold us two on the eve of a great battle, as we were sixteen hundred years ago. At that time, I, the chief of so many people, came among thy tribe to ask a passage."
"Sixteen hundred years ago!" said Hullin. "Zounds! Yégof, that makes us terribly old! But it is of no consequence—each to his taste."
"Yes," rejoined the madman, "but, with thy usual obstinacy, thou wouldst hear nothing. Men died on the Blutfeld—men who now call for vengeance!"
"Ah, the Blutfeld!" said Jean-Claude. "Yes, yes, an old story; I seem to have heard it before."
Yégof reddened, and his eyes sparkled.
"Thou pridest thyself on thy victory!" cried he; "but take care—take care! blood calls for blood!" And in a calmer tone, "Listen," he added. "I am not angry with thee. Thou art brave; the children of thy race might mingle with those of mine. I am anxious for an alliance with thee—thou knowest it."
"There, he is going to begin about Louise," thought Jean-Claude. And, foreseeing a formal demand, he said: "Yégof, I am sorry, but I must leave thee. I have so much to see after——"
The madman did not wait the end of this leave-taking, and rising, with his face distorted by indignation, "Thou refusest me thy daughter?" cried he, lifting his finger solemnly.
"We will talk of that later on."