she holds onto the rope."

"The rope may break or fray through on the sill."

"She takes her chance like the rest of us."

"The rest of us--we're _men_!"

"There are neither men nor women in the Cause. Do you need to be
taught that now? Stand back!"

"I'll go down in her place."

"You will do nothing of the kind. Which of us is the leader here?"

Sobrenski had twisted the girl's arms behind her back, and he was
holding her by the wrists. He expected her to scream or struggle, but
she remained absolutely passive.

One of the men was making a slip-knot in a coil of rope.

Vardri's blood was hot as he looked on. Blind with helpless rage, he
was conscious of nothing but the little set face and defiant head. He
had come suddenly into his heritage of manhood at the sight of her
alone, defenceless and roughly handled by brute beasts who called
themselves men.

He was mad, too, with a man's jealousy. From the earliest moment he
had seen Arithelli he had given her homage as a woman. The _gamin_,
the "Becky Sharp" that Emile and the others knew, he had never seen,
and he had always resented her numerous irreverent nicknames.

He could do nothing, nothing!

Get himself shot or strangled, perhaps, and what use would that be to
her?

"Come!" said Sobrenski, turning her towards the window.

For the first time since she had entered the room, Arithelli spoke:
"Leave me alone for a minute. No, I won't move--_parole d'honneur_!"

When she was released, she put out her left hand. "_Mon ami_, what's
the use of arguing? I'm the errand boy, _vois-tu_? My work is to
carry messages. If you make a scene it's only the worse for me. It's
good of you to want to go instead. I shall not forget."

The voice, subtle and sweet as ever, the intimacy implied by the
familiar "thou" acted like a charm to the boy's wild fury. Before her
courage and dignity it seemed out of place to make any further protest.

He crushed the long and lovely hand against his lips with mingled
passion and reverence.

There was a red streak across the wrist.

"A fine melodrama!" sneered Sobrenski. "Keep all that for the stage,
it isn't needed here. _Allons_! We can't waste any more time, there
has been too much wasted already."

Vardri walked to the furthest end of the room, turning his back upon
the group at the window, and thrust his fingers into his ears to deaden
the sound of the scream for which he waited in tortured anticipation.