He did not heed me, but throwing his head back, he said in a loud whisper: "They are going to butcher your nephew." At the same moment I heard a dreadful scream from the tower itself.
"Help me up!" cried I, gone mad at my own impotence. "Why do you not fire at them?"
He nodded his head, and thrusting his pistol through the bars, he snapped at an unseen enemy. The weapon did not fire, and he threw it down to me angrily. "Your own," he cried, and came a little way down the rope to reach it.
The next minute there was a loud report, and upon that a hollow sound, as though a great bell had been struck a heavy blow by a hammer.
"Now," cried Bardot quickly, "to the bridge!"
I did not question him, and we ran round together to fling down the bridge, the windlass running out with the sound of a great ship's cable. It seemed inconceivable that the Russians in the place did not attack us. This, however, did not happen.
We ran across the bridge and there crouched as two hunters who themselves were hunted.
"Listen!" says Bardot, bending his ear to the earth.
I imitated him, and heard a strange sound. It was the thunder of cavalry through the wood.
"The Cossacks!" cried I. It seemed to me then that I should never see poor Léon again.