"I don't care who the woman is," said Leroux; "she shan't leave this house.—And you, Christine, treat her well, or remember what I promised you!"
"I snap my fingers at your hussy. Look, you'd do much better to comfort her; I believe she's squalling now; go and give her a kiss."
"What about us?" said the other robbers, heated by the fumes of the wine; "we'll comfort her, too. Let's go and kiss the pretty mute; we must cheer her up a bit."
With that, Leroux's three comrades rose to go to Sister Anne; but he planted himself in front of them, and, taking a pistol in each hand, shouted to them in stentorian tones:
"Not another step, corbleu! or I'll kill you! That woman's mine; I found her on the road, when you were going by like fools without seeing her; I insisted on bringing her here; I swore I'd make her my wife; and, damn your eyes! the first man who touches her dies by my hand!"
This harangue checked the ardor of his fellows; they knew their companion, they knew that the act would follow close on the heels of the threat; so they contented themselves with laughing at Leroux's jealousy, while Sister Anne, frozen with terror by the scene, retreated into a corner of the room and fell on her knees before her captors.
Leroux went to her and tried to soothe her; but, fearing some new enterprise on the part of his companions, he led her into the other room, and, pointing to a wretched pallet, motioned to her to lie down upon it; then he went out, locking the door on her.
Sister Anne was alone in the little room, where there was no light except that which shone through the interstices of the partition, and which enabled her to make out her surroundings. Having made a pretence of lying down on the pallet, she soon rose and listened intently to what the robbers said. They continued to drink, and began to sing. If only she could escape while they were thus engaged! She felt along the wall until she came to a window; it must open into the forest, and the room was level with the ground, so that it would be easy to escape that way. But a moment later her hand came in contact with stout bars, which prevented her passing through. Poor girl! the pangs of disappointment were more cruel than all the sufferings she had endured hitherto. When she believed that she was on the point of recovering her liberty, to lose that last hope! to be unable to conceive any possible means of escaping from that horrible den! It was like dying twice over. She fell, utterly disheartened, on the bed, and tried to stifle with her hands the groans that escaped from her breast.
XXIV
THE STRANGER
Thus the night passed. The robbers fell asleep in front of the fire; and, luckily for Sister Anne, their vile housekeeper did the same, and did not come to share the bed with the poor girl, who lay there all night, listening intently, quivering at the slightest sound in the next room, and praying to heaven to send her a rescuer.