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and your friend; for I have always felt an interest in you; I have always implored my father not to cease his efforts for you. But listen, Bernard; they are fighting, and fighting with guns! It must be my father who has come to look for me, and they are going to kill him. Ah!" she cried, falling on her knees before me, "go and prevent that, Bernard! Tell your uncles to respect my father, the best of men, if you but knew! Tell them that, if they hate our family, if they must have blood, they may kill me! Let them tear my heart out; but let them respect my father . . ." Some one outside called me in a violent voice. "Where is the coward? Where is that wretched boy?" shouted my Uncle Laurence. Then he shook the door; but I had fastened it so securely that it resisted all his furious blows. "That miserable cur is amusing himself by making love while our throats are being cut! Bernard, the mounted police are attacking us! Your Uncle Louis had just been killed! Come and help us! For God's sake, come, Bernard!" "May the devil take the lot of you," I cried, "and may you be killed yourself, if I believe a single word of all this. I am not such a fool as you imagine; the only cowards here are those who lie. Didn't I swear that the woman should be mine? I'm not going to give her up until I choose." "To hell with you!" replied Laurence; "you are pretending . . ." The shots rang out faster. Frightful cries were heard. Laurence left the door and ran in the direction of the noise. His eagerness proved him so much in earnest that I could no longer refuse to believe him. The thought that they would accuse me of cowardice overcame me. I advanced towards the door. "O Bernard! O Monsieur de Mauprat!" cried Edmee, staggering after me; "let me go with you. I will throw myself at your uncles' feet; I will make them stop the fight; I will give them all I possess, my life, if they wish . . . if only they will spare my father." "Wait a moment," I said, turning towards her; "I am by no means certain that this is not a joke at my expense. I have a suspicion that my uncles are there, behind that door, and that, while our whippers-in are firing off guns in the courtyard, they are waiting with a blanket to toss me. Now, either you are my cousin, or you are a . . . You must make me a solemn promise, and I will make you one in return. If you are one of these wandering charmers and I quit this room the dupe of your pretty acting, y
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