yesterday a master of
men, a very man of war in his pride and his valour--see him, now, and--"

"Don't!" she cried, sharp pain in her voice. "Don't!" And she stopped
him with her hand, her face averted. After an interval, "You come from
him?" she muttered faintly.

"Yes."

"Is he--hurt to death, think you?" She spoke low, and kept her face
hidden from him.

"Alas, no!" he answered, speaking the thought in his heart. "The men who
are with him seem confident of his recovery."

"Do they know?"

"Badelon has had experience."

"No, no. Do they know of this?" she cried. "Of this!" And she pointed
with a gesture of loathing to the black gibbet on the farther strand.

He shook his head. "I think not," he muttered. And after a moment, "God
help you!" he added fervently. "God help and guide you, Madame!"

She turned on him suddenly, fiercely. "Is that all you can do?" she
cried. "Is that all the help you can give? You are a man. Go down,
lead them out; drive off these cowards who drain our life's blood, who
trade on a woman's heart! On them! Do something, anything, rather than
lie in safety here--here!"

The minister shook his head sadly. "Alas, Madame!" he said, "to sally
were to waste life. They outnumber us three to one. If Count Hannibal
could do no more than break through last night, with scarce a man
unwounded--"

"He had the women!"

"And we have not him!"

"He would not have left us!" she cried hysterically.

"I believe it."

"Had they taken me, do you think he would have lain behind walls? Or
skulked in safety here, while--while--" Her voice failed her.

He shook his head despondently.

"And that is all you can do?" she cried, and turned from him, and to him
again, extending her arms, in bitter scorn. "All you will do? Do you
forget that twice he spared your life? That in Paris once, and once in
Angers, he held his hand? That always, whether he stood or whether he
fled, he held himself between us and harm? Ay, always? And who will now
raise a hand for him? Who?"

"Madame!"

"Who? Who? Had he died in the field," she continued, her voice shaking
with grief, her hands beating the parapet--for she had turned from
him--"had he fallen where he rode last night, in the front, with his face
to the foe, I had viewed him tearless, I had deemed him happy! I had
prayed dry-eyed for him who--who spared me all these days and weeks! Whom
I robbed and he forgave me! Whom I temp