"Don't!" she cried, sharp pain in her voice. "Don't!" And she stopped him with her hand, her face averted. After an interval, "You come from him?" she muttered faintly.
"Yes."
"Is he--hurt to death, think you?" She spoke low, and kept her face hidden from him.
"Alas, no!" he answered, speaking the thought in his heart. "The men who are with him seem confident of his recovery."
"Do they know?"
"Badelon has had experience."
"No, no. Do they know of this?" she cried. "Of this!" And she pointed with a gesture of loathing to the black gibbet on the farther strand.
He shook his head. "I think not," he muttered. And after a moment, "God help you!" he added fervently. "God help and guide you, madame!"
She turned on him suddenly, fiercely. "Is that all you can do?" she cried. "Is that all the help you can give! You are a man. Go down, lead them out; drive off these cowards who drain our life's blood, who trade on a woman's heart! On them! Do something, anything, rather than lie in safety here--here!"
The minister shook his head sadly. "Alas, madame!" he said, "to sally were to waste life. They outnumber us three to one. If Count Hannibal could do no more than break through last night, with scarce a man unwounded----"