He flung the reins he held in his hand from him, and over the sin-marked features of the man there came somehow an expression of nobleness.
"Then, by God, madame, I stay! And I thank you for teaching me how to die. Twenty-five years--twenty-five years ago I was a gentleman, and to-day I bridge over the past. I will stay, madame, and the sword of la Coquille will help to hold the castle for you. Hasten, men. Up with the drawbridge. Ah! sacre nom d'un chien! We are too late!"
CHAPTER X.
[MONSIEUR LE CHEVALIER IS PAID IN FULL.]
It was too late. Before I realized it, the courtyard was full of armed men. La Coquille, who had flung himself to the front with his sword drawn, was ridden down and secured ere he could strike a blow, whilst Lalande and Pierre, who bore no weapons but their poniards, and were utterly surprised, shared the like fate. So suddenly and quickly was this done that--for the courage had gone out of my finger-tips--I had no time to flee, and I stood like a stone, whilst a sea of savage faces surged around me. I gave myself for dead, and one, a trooper--more brute than man--raised his sword to slay me, but was struck from his horse in the act. Then some one seemed to come from nowhere to my side--a tall, straight figure, with a shining blade in his hand, and he called out, "Back! back! Or I run the first man through!"
The men were called to order in a moment at that tone of command, though a voice I well knew and now hated called out:
"Well done, de Rosny, my squire of dames. Pardieu! We have the whole hive--Queen-Bee and all."
"By God!" said another, "they will hang from the rafters in a half-hour, then--my poor Ganache!" And the speaker, whose rough, harsh voice was as pitiless as his speech, swore a bitter oath. "Gently, Tremblecourt," replied the one who had been called de Rosny; "our poor de Ganache's soul has not flown so far but that the others can overtake it in time." And then de Clermont came up to me, but as he passed la Coquille in so doing, the latter strained at his cords, and hissed rather than spoke out the word "Traitor!" as he spat at him.
"You hang in a little time head downwards at de Lorgnac's feet for that," said de Clermont calmly, and then turning to me, "'Tis a sad business this, madame; but war is war, and after all things are going as you would have them, are they not?"
I could not bear to meet that sneering, beautiful face, which, now that its mask was snatched away, cared not in how evil an aspect it showed itself. Words would not come to me, and as I stood there before de Clermont, quivering in every limb at the awful threat conveyed in his speech to la Coquille, de Tremblecourt's voice rang out again, mad and broken with rage: