“Mother of God! Mother of God!” I heard her whisper, and then she raised her hand against him. “No, no, no,” she said, with sharp anguish, “do not try to force me to your wishes—do not; for I, at least, will never live to see it. I have suffered more than I can bear I will end this shame, I will—”
I had heard enough. I stepped back quickly, closed the panel, and went softly to the door and into the hall, determined to bring her out against Doltaire, trusting to Gabord not to oppose me.
XXVII. A SIDE-WIND OF REVENGE
I knew it was Doltaire’s life or mine, and I shrank from desecrating this holy place; but our bitter case would warrant this, and more. As I came quickly through the hall, and round the corner where stood Gabord, I saw a soldier talking with the Mother Superior.
“He is not dead?” I heard her say.
“No, holy Mother,” was the answer, “but sorely wounded. He was testing the fire-organs for the rafts, and one exploded too soon.”
At that moment the Mother turned to me, and seemed startled by my look. “What is it?” she whispered.
“He would carry her off,” I replied.
“He shall never do so,” was her quick answer. “Her father, the good Seigneur, has been wounded, and she must go to him.”