"Schönes Tier!" he murmured. Then, turning to his men, he ordered: "Secure it, one of you!"
Thunderously growling, with a puzzled look at his mistress standing like a statue, the dog suffered a cord to be slipped through its collar. The blood surged into the countess's face.
"Monsieur——!" The sense of outrage choked her.
"Madame," he interrupted calmly, "I need scarcely remind you that time presses. You will not, I am sure, constrain us to violence."
She met his eyes, was confronted with inexorable necessity. Her hands twitched.
"You will at least allow me a little time to collect a few clothes and valuables?"
"A little time, madame."
She ran from the room, hearing as a last sound the dog choking as it struggled on the leash. In the hall was Marie, haggard, her old body shaking with excitement. She clutched at her mistress's arm.
"Madame! what is happening?" She lapsed into patois under the stress.
The countess replied also, without noticing it, in the language of her childhood.