“Oh, I was wondering. If they come here, and let their wild talk run away with them, it might be well to fight them off until morning. Maybe we could do it.”
“Yes, it might seem best.”
“But if––if the Big Throat should not come, or should have changed, then it would have been better that I had submitted.” 200
“You are thinking of me, my son. You must not. I will not leave you to go without a struggle. I can fight, if needs be, as well as you. I will do my part.”
“It is not that, Father. But if we fight, and the Big Throat does not come,––there is the maid. They would not spare her then.”
The priest looked at the Captain, and in the dim, uncertain light he saw something of the thought that lay behind those wearied eyes.
“True,” he said; “true.”
Menard walked up and down, a half-dozen steps forward, a half-dozen back, without a glance at the priest, who watched him closely. Suddenly he turned, and the words that were in his mind slipped unguarded from his tongue, low and stern:––
“If they come, Father,––if they harm her,––God! if they even wake her, I will kill them.”
Father Claude looked at him, but said nothing. They walked together up and down; then, as if weary, they sat again by the door.