"What!" she gasped, thinking he was about to slay her. "What will you do to me?"
"Do!" he replied. "Do! What should I do?"
"God knows! Yet in mercy spare me! I am a woman," and overcome with fear she cast herself at his feet. "Spare me—spare me."
"I do not understand you," St. Georges said, looking down disdainfully at her. "I think, too, you do not understand me. I wish to do only one thing now, to quit your presence and never set eyes on you again," and without offering to assist her to her feet he backed toward the door.
But now—perhaps, because of the discovery that this man meant her no harm, intended to exact no horrible atonement from her—a revulsion of feeling took place in the woman's breast.
"No, no!" she cried, springing to her feet. "No, no! Do not go—for God's sake do not attempt to quit the town yet! You will be lost—if you are seen—lost, lost! Ah, heavens!" she screamed, for at that moment there boomed a cannon from the château, "the sunset gun! The sunset gun! It is too late!"
"What is too late?" he asked advancing toward her. "What?" And as he spoke he seized her wrist. "Woman, what do you mean? Is this some fresh plot, some new treachery? Answer me. Am I trapped—and by you?"
"No, no!" she wailed, afraid to tell what she had done, afraid that even now, ere the soldiers should come, he would strangle the life out of her, or thrust the sword he carried by his side through her heart. "No, no! But it is known—they know—that you have been a galérien—you will be arrested! The mark upon your shoulder is known to the commandant."
"How?" he said, again seizing her by the arm. "How? Who knows it? Who? Outside this house none can have seen it."
"Come!" she replied, not daring to answer him; "come, hide. They will look for you here. Yet I can secrete you till the search is over. For a week—months—if need be. Come."