"The children! Oh, they're all right; they won't hurt the children."
"That is not true," she said, for the instinct of the woman guided her surely. "Someone must speak for the children. Will not you, father?"
The appeal touched Paleologue, and he threw away the stump of his cigarette and leaned out of the window. They heard him talking rapidly with the Turks upon the side-walk, and presently shouting something to an officer before the guest-house opposite. Whatever he said moved the soldiers to derision and the children themselves to hope. They knew that he was their friend, and their round eyes watched his every gesture.
"What's the man saying?" Faber asked. Louis hardly seemed to know.
"I guess it's a bad business, boss, a d——d bad business."
"You don't mean to say——"
"I do every word of it."
"We must see this thing through, Paleologue. I'm going out."
"You can't go out. What's the good of doing stunts? They'll shoot, sure."
He tried to hold back the impetuous man, appealing and swearing in a breath. From below, the children watched the scene with a look of bewilderment and despair. The unknown strangers were quarrelling, then! What hope of mercy had they if this went on? This must have been in their minds when Maryska, climbing nimbly as a cat, slipped by her father and leaped down among the Turks. She was kissing and hugging some of the children and telling them in a tongue they understood that all would be well with them; doing this, and defying the snarling troopers before a man could have counted ten. Then the men at the window lost sight of her, the throng closing about her as water filling the vortex of a falling stone.