“Of course, she must be succored. Ten thousand crowns is a large sum for some purposes; not large to pay as ransom for a lady.”
“Not for some ladies,” I answered. “Not for Mademoiselle Capello.”
“Babache, you are a Tatar and have the sentiments of a Tatar,” said my master; and then he got with me into the boat and we pulled across the bright blue water to where the rascal awaited us, sunning himself with great enjoyment in the August noon.
Count Saxe saw through the fellow’s disguise at once. He liked not to deal with rascals, but knew how to perfectly, and said at once in French:
“What will be done to Monsieur Cheverny and the lad if we decline to pay the ransom?”
For answer the fellow grinned, and drew his hand, as an executioner draws his sword, across his neck.
Count Saxe said not a word in reply, but went through the pantomime of a platoon of soldiers firing at the order “One! Two! Three!” upon the condemned.
The Russian understood very well, and laughed.
“But we have not yet come to that,” said Count Saxe. “Here is a man, Captain Babache, who will go with you and see the young man and the lad. On his report depends whether we shall pay anything or not.”
“He must take the ten thousand crowns with him,” said the fellow. “It would be a pity to shoot the lad, François. He is such a brave lad. We marched him far and fast; he was footsore and weary, but he marched, and not a moan escaped him.”