'There is enough left for a horse to cross.'
'Yes,' I answered, 'to-day.'
'Why to-day?' he asked, still looking at me. I think he was surprised to see me so much moved.
'Because the rest will be blown up to-night,' I answered bluntly. 'Or may be. How can we guard it in the dark? It is fifty paces from the gate. We cannot risk men there--with our numbers.'
'Still it may not be,' he said. 'We must keep a sharp look-out.'
'But if it is?' I answered, halting suddenly, and looking him full in the face. 'If it is, my lord?' I continued. 'We are provisioned for a week only. It is not autumn, you see. Then the pickle tubs would be full, the larder stocked, the rafters groaning, the still-room supplied. But it is May, and there is little left. The last three days we have been thinking of other things than provisions; and we have thirty mouths to feed.'
The Waldgrave's face fell. 'I had not thought of that,' he said. 'The bridge gone, they may starve us, you mean?'
'Into submission to whatever terms they please,' I answered. 'We are too few to cut our way through the town, and there would be no other way of escape.'
'What do you advise, then?' he asked, drawing me aside with a flustered air. 'Flight?'
'A horse might cross the bridge to-day,' I said.