in hand.

One or two soldiers climbed over and dropped into the garden, prowling
around, prodding the bushes with their bayonets, even coming to press
their dirty faces and hands against our window.

"They're all here!" sang out one. "It was an owl, I tell you!" And
he menaced us with his rifle in pantomime and retired, calling his
companions to follow.

"Where is Jacqueline?" asked the Countess, looking anxiously at the
little blue skirt on Speed's knees. "Have they harmed that child?"

I told her.

A beautiful light grew in her eyes as she listened. "Did I not warn
you that we Bretons know how to die?" she said.

I looked dully at Speed, who sat by the window, brooding over the
little woollen skirt on his knees, stroking it, touching the torn hem,
and at last folding it with unaccustomed and shaky hands.

There were noises outside our door, loud voices, hammering, the sound
of furniture being dragged over stone floors, and I scarcely noticed
it when our door was opened again.

Then somebody called out our names; a file of half-drunken soldiers
grounded arms in the passageway with a bang that brought us to our
feet, as Mornac, flushed with wine, entered unsteadily, drawn sword in
hand.

"I'm damned if I stay here any longer," he broke out, angrily. "I'll
see whether my rascals can't shoot straight by torch-light. Here, you!
Scarlett, I mean! And you, Speed; and you, too, madame; patter your
prayers, for you'll get no priest. Lieutenant, withdraw the guard at
the wall. Here, captain, march the battalion back to Paradise and take
the servants!"

A second later the drums began to beat, but Mornac, furious, silenced
them.

"They can hear you at sea!" he shouted. "Do you want a boat-load of
marines at your heels? Strike out those torches! Four will do for the
garden. March!"

The shuffling tread of the insurgent infantry echoed across the gravel
court-yard; torches behind the walls were extinguished; blackness
enveloped the cliffs.

"Well," broke out Speed, hoarsely, "good-bye, Scarlett."

He held out his hand.

"Good-bye," I said, stunned.

I dropped my hand as two soldiers placed themselves on either side of
him.

"Well, good-bye," he repeated, aimlessly; and then, remembering, he
went to the Countess and offered his hand.

"I am so sorry for you," she said, with a pallid smile. "You have
much to live for. But you must not feel lonely, monsieur; you will be
with us--we shall be close to you."