"Seen him?"
"Yes."
"Where? You must be mistaken."
"No, no," said the priest, hurriedly. "I know him—only too well. I saw him at the Ordnance. He has just arrived. He was brought here by Indians, on a litter. The commandant is even now with him. I saw him go in. I hurried here, for I knew that you were here, to tell you to fly. Fly then, at once, and for your life. I can get you away now, if you fly at once."
"Fly?" repeated Claude, casting a glance at MimI. — "Yes, fly!" cried the priest, in earnest tones. "Don't think of her, —or, rather, do you, Mimi, if you value his life, urge him, entreat him, pray him to fly. He is lost if he stays. One moment more may destroy him."
Mimi turned as pale as death. Her lips parted. She would have spoken, but could say nothing.
"Come," cried the priest, "come, hasten, fly! It may be only for a few weeks—a few weeks only—think of that. There is more at stake than you imagine. Boy, you know not what you are risking—not your own life, but the lives of others; the honor of your family; the hope of the final redemption of your race. Haste—fly, fly!"
The priest spoke in tones of feverish impetuosity. At these words Claude stood thunder-struck. It seemed as though this priest knew something about his family. What did he know? How could he allude to the honor of that family, and the hope of its redemption?
"O, fly! O, fly! Haste!" cried Mimi, who had at last found her voice. "Don't think of me. Fly—save yourself, before it's too late."
"What! and leave you at his mercy?" said Claude.