Paul took his brother-in-law by the shoulders and shouted:
"Élisabeth is lost. Prince Conrad has fallen in love with her—we heard that before, you know; and her diary is one long cry of distress—he has fallen in love with her and he never lets go his prey. Do you understand? He will stop at nothing!"
"Oh, Paul, I can't believe. . . ."
"At nothing, I tell you. He is not only an idiot, but a scoundrel and a blackguard. When you read the diary you will understand. . . . But enough of words, Bernard. What we have to do is to act and to act at once, without even taking time to reflect."
"What do you propose?"
"To snatch Élisabeth from that man's clutches, to deliver her."
"Impossible."
"Impossible? We are not eight miles from the place where my wife is a prisoner, exposed to that rascal's insults, and you think that I am going to stay here with my arms folded? Nonsense! We must show that we have blood in our veins! To work, Bernard! And if you hesitate I shall go alone."
"You will go alone? Where?"
"To Èbrecourt. I don't want any one with me. I need no assistance. A German uniform will be enough. I shall cross the frontier in the dark. I shall kill the enemies who have to be killed and to-morrow morning Élisabeth shall be here, free."