"Hum!" muttered Valentine, stroking the ends of his light moustache, and casting a glance around him, "hum! there is a great number of them."
"What matters it how many?" Louis replied, impetuously; "I will not be the witness of such iniquity, if I die for it. I will attempt to save the life of that unfortunate man, who so frankly offered us his friendship."
"The fact is," Valentine said, pensively, "this Trangoil-Lanec, as they call him, is a very worthy fellow, for whom I feel a warm sympathy; but what can we do?"
"Pardieu!" Louis said, seizing his pistols, "throw ourselves between him and his enemies; we can each of us kill five or six."
"Yes, and the others will kill us, without our having succeeded in saving the man for whom we devote ourselves. A bad means that! Let us try to find some other."
"We must be quick, then; the torture is about to commence."
Valentine struck his forehead, and cried, with a jeering laugh—
"Bah! I have it! Trick must serve our turn—leave it to me; my old trade of a mountebank will do! Help me, if I want it; but, for heaven's sake, swear to remain calm!"
"I swear I will, if you save him."
"Be satisfied—against rogue I'll play rogue and a half; these savages shall see I can be more cunning than they."