Mauprat
ing at my expense. However, I resolved not to let the alarm cause me any uneasiness until I had certain proof that it was not a trick.
"Come, now," I said, going up to her again, "own that all this is a joke. You are not Mademoiselle de Mauprat at all; and you merely want to discover if I am an apprentice capable of making love."
"I swear by Christ," she answered, taking my hands in her own, which were cold as death, "that I am Edmée, your cousin, your prisoner—yes, 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 that 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 has 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
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