They could hear the trampling of the men beneath, hear huge weighty things being thrown down in the hall, which fell with a sound resembling the fall of tons of lead, and they knew--Andrew and Clemence--perhaps, too, De Bois-Vallée--that they were trees being brought in and cast on the hall as fuel; they heard orders being given. Orders for powder-flasks and horns to be ignited beneath kindlings--another order that none should rush up the stairs to seek for the wolf.
"It is enough that he is here," a fierce, strident voice cried. "We know it. We will burn him in his hole as we burnt the bear last year. Pray God we see him rush out in flames as Bruin rushed."
And, even above the voice, pealed that of the boy singing:
"Lorraine, Lorraine, ma douce patrie."
From Marion there came at this added horror a shriek, long, wailing, piteous to hear, the shriek of one in mortal dread; Andrew's ears caught once again a hoarse whisper from Clemence, and the words, "this is death. So best!" In his grasp he felt the man whom he held shaking with terror, and then, suddenly, as he turned to speak another word of encouragement to Marion, he knew that De Bois-Vallée had escaped him Either in his terror, or in the quickly acquired knowledge that, as Andrew so turned, the grasp relaxed somewhat, he shook himself free.
He was gone! Escaped! There was nothing before Andrew but empty darkness! His sword told him that, as he plunged it furiously into the empty space in all directions, except where the women were.
"He has escaped," he whispered to Clemente. "Escaped, and left us here. Has reached the exit, and left us to die."
"Escaped?" she screamed. "Escaped? How? How? How?"
Yet in another moment it seemed as if her rage at this was swallowed up by some new idea.
"If he is gone," she said, "why let them destroy the house? And--surely if they know women are in it--they will spare us. She," and the woman cast her eyes upon the almost insensible form of Marion, "cannot descend to them. I will go myself."