“But for whom then were you afraid?” said M. Goefle.
“For you, M. Goefle, for you!” replied Margaret, eagerly. “We have discovered that you are in great danger here. Did you not suspect it? Yes, yes, for I see that you are armed. Have they come? Have you been attacked?”
“Not yet,” replied M. Goefle. “Is it certain, then, that we are to be attacked?”
“Oh! we are only too sure of it!”
“What! they threaten me also—me?” replied M. Goefle, with the most perfect simplicity and good faith. “Speak, dear young lady—are you quite sure? This is really very strange!”
“I am not sure as to the latter point,” said Margaret, whose paleness was suddenly dissipated by a vivid blush, but who avoided meeting Christian’s eyes.
“Then,” said M. Goefle, without seeming to observe the young girl’s embarrassment, “it is he—he alone that they have designs against?”
And he pointed to Christian, whom Margaret persisted in refusing to see or to name, which did not prevent her from replying:
“Yes, yes, it is he, Monsieur Goefle; they want to kill him.”
“And the major and his friends know this also? How is it that they have not come?”