e to be given up to him. But I had made up my mind to reward my
followers with a present of a horse apiece; and I was besides well aware
that this was only an afterthought on his part, and that he had fully
decided to yield. I stood fast, therefore. The result justified my
firmness, for he presently agreed to surrender on those terms.

'Ay, but M. de Bruhl?' I said, desiring to learn clearly whether he had
authority to treat for all. 'What of him?'

He looked at me impatiently. 'Come and see!' he said, with an ugly
sneer.

'No, no, my friend,' I answered, shaking my head warily. 'That is not
according to rule. You are the surrendering party, and it is for you to
trust us. Bring out the ladies, that I may have speech with them, and
then I will draw off my men.'

'Nom de Dieu!' he cried hoarsely, with so much fear and rage in his face
that I recoiled from him. 'That is just what I cannot do.'

'You cannot?' I rejoined with a sudden thrill of horror. 'Why not? why
not, man?' And in the excitement of the moment, conceiving the idea that
the worst had happened to the women, I pushed him back with so much fury
that he laid his hand on his sword.

'Confound you!' he stuttered, 'stand back! It is not that, I tell you!
Mademoiselle is safe and sound, and madame, if she had her senses, would
be sound too. It is not our fault if she is not. But I have not got the
key of the rooms. It is in Bruhl's pocket, I tell you!'

'Oh!' I made answer drily. 'And Bruhl?'

'Hush, man,' Fresnoy replied, wiping the perspiration from his brow, and
bringing his pallid, ugly face, near to mine, 'he has got the plague!'

I stared at him for a moment in silence; which he was the first to
break. 'Hush!' he muttered again, laying a trembling hand on my arm,
'if the men knew it--and not seeing him they are beginning to suspect
it--they would rise on us. The devil himself could not keep them here.
Between him and them I am on a razor's edge. Madame is with him, and
the door is locked. Mademoiselle is in a room upstairs, and the door
is locked. And he has the keys. What can I do? What can I do, man?' he
cried, his voice hoarse with terror and dismay.

'Get the keys,' I said instinctively.

'What?' From him?' he muttered, with an irrepressible shudder, which
shook his bloated cheeks. 'God forbid I should see him! It takes
stout men infallibly. I should be dead by night! By God, I should!' he
continued, whining. 'Now you are not stout, M. de Mars