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