Edmé's look softened a little as she answered:—
"Although since you left our house we have only thought of you as an enemy, still I believe your father's son would be incapable of treachery. As for saving us, listen to the mob below. One man is helpless against so many."
"I can save you—but it depends upon yourself. No matter what I may say or do, you must trust me implicitly."
"Oh! do as my son says, mademoiselle!" interposed old Matthieu, joining his hands beseechingly. "For your sake, for all our sakes, listen to and be guided by him."
"If you can really protect us in this dreadful hour I should be guilty if I risked the lives of those who have faithfully remained at my side, by refusing your aid. I will follow your father's and your counsel," said Edmé quietly.
"Is the door of the salon barred?" asked Tournay of his father.
"With such slight fastenings as we have," answered the old man.
"See that it is fast," said Tournay. "It will give us a few minutes. Then listen to me."
There was a crash—louder than any that had yet been heard, and the mob poured into the lower part of the château.
Here they paused for a moment to recover breath and wipe the perspiration from their brows. Then some of the party began again their work of destruction among the pieces of furniture, while others brought up wine from the cellar to refresh themselves and their thirsty companions.