"Nay, nay," said Andrew, "it will be useless. They will not believe. Will think 'tis but a ruse to save him and his house. 'Twill not avail."
Also he remembered, though he could not say so to her, that Jean and Laurent had hinted, even if they had not said so in as many words, that this woman was as unpopular in all the country round as the owner of Bois-le-Vaux himself, was regarded as an evil creature of his. What likelihood, therefore, that they would desist from glutting the passions now aroused in their breasts, or from their determination to destroy the house, should she show herself?
"I will come with you," he said a moment later, seeing that nothing could turn her from this newly arrived at determination. "There may be none who know me, and can thereby stay their comrades' hands, but, at least, one glance will show that I am not he. There is no resemblance betwixt us. We will go together."
"No! no! no!" she said, stopping in the descent she had already commenced on the stairs. "Man! are you mad? If there are none who know you they will deem, must deem, you his friend, accomplice. And," she went on, almost imperiously, "I bid you stay--for her sake," pointing to Marion as she spoke. "If a bullet find your heart or brain, what of her? She will be burnt to a cinder in this house."
It was true! He must not leave her; never leave her now. Death had threatened them, the end was very near--another hour and the mansion would be in flames; his place was by her side. Either in life or death! Henceforth, come what might--safety or destruction--they must find it together.
Even as he recognized that this was so, Clemence was gone, had descended the upper flight of stairs, was about to descend the lower. And as he, peering over once more, looked down, he knew the awful risk to which the woman had exposed herself.
Up from the hall floor, as they saw her above, came a shout of many voices. In an instant the crack of half a dozen muskets came, too, also shrieks and ribald cries.
"The witch, Clemence. The hell-cat. The beldam. His mother's rival. The curse of all her days. At her! At her! Tear her to pieces."
"Nay!" roared out that harsh, strident voice he had heard before. "Nay. Not so. And come you back," its owner cried to three others who had already begun to rush up the stairs, as though to seize on her. "Come back, I say. Nor fire on her more. There is a better way. He is here and she is with him. Let them burn together!"
The shots had missed her--every one!--though Andrew, watching, had seen her stagger back as they struck the stairs and the wall around her; now she turned and retraced her steps to where he stood.