"You are a gentleman,
but I am only a servant," and in his excitement La Mothe never paused
to ask himself why Hugues should so classify a hedge minstrel of the
Duchy of Lackeverything. "It is a fine thing, no doubt, to die for
your honour, but what have I to do with honour? Life is life. The
boy, on what terms?"

"Your lives. And you gain nothing by refusing. The boy is ours in any
case."

"Never," said La Mothe, struggling to shake off the restraining hand
that pinned him, helpless, half behind the doorpost. "Never while I
live."

"Just so," answered Hugues, tightening his grasp; "not while you live.
But afterwards? and what better are we then, or the Dauphin either?
Give me three minutes, monsieur, to persuade him, just three minutes,"
and in La Mothe's ear he whispered, "For God's sake be quiet or you
will ruin us all."

"Three minutes? Play me no tricks, my man."

"But, monsieur," and Hugues' voice was a whine as he spoke. "What
trick is possible? You are a dozen, we three or four. And are we not
caught like rats in a pit?"

"Like rats! You have said the word! Take your three minutes, rat, and
don't forget that like rats we'll kill you."

Urging his point vehemently, pleadingly, and with every plausible
argument at his command, but never slackening his grip, Hugues drew La
Mothe a yard or two into the blackened ruin. There he held him with a
wary eye to a possible surprise. Blaise and Marcel were on the upper
floor and only La Follette was in sight, standing guard at the
stair-head.

"Listen," he said. "Monseigneur is dearer to me than to you. Do you
think I would give up one hair of him while I live, I, who sleep at his
door of nights? Never, not one hair! But between us we may save him
yet. Shake your head, curse me for a coward, for a scoundrel, try to
throw me off, strike me if you like. Yes, yes," he insisted, raising
his voice, "it is our lives; why lose our lives for nothing?" Then, in
a whisper, "They will give the alarm from the fields; it is only a mile
to Amboise----"

"But it is a mile--a mile to go, a mile to come back----"

"It is the one chance," answered Hugues loudly, fawning on La Mothe
with a hand which aped persuasion. The words had a double meaning and
held La Follette quiet, La Follette who might have ruined all through
incomprehension. "You know the bench where Mademoiselle sits to watch
the play? When I cry Now! rush up and fling it across the gap of the