He Saves that which he Loves the Best
dark pools of night, lit with a light from within. Small wonder that the headstrong Irishman was conscious of his leaping heart, or that he lost himself momentarily in their depths.
But the voice of Chambret brought them both to reason—Chambret, who had been no less instant to the side of the princess. He shouted something in a tone tinged with impatient worriment. O'Rourke heard and turned, shaking his head like a man restive under the influence of a dream.
"Chambret!" he cried. "Thank God! Ye're armed? Then take her, man, and—and guard her as ye would your life. Madame," he murmured, "ye will pardon me—me seeming roughness. I—I was—"
"I understand, monsieur," she said quietly, still with her gaze upon his eyes; "you are needed elsewhere. Monsieur Chambret, your arm, if you please. I shall not run away, that you need clutch me so rudely!"
O'Rourke was gone. Chambret stared at the face of the woman in deepest chagrin. Did not the excuse the Irishman had claimed apply to him, to Chambret, also? He had how- ever, no time for protest. Immediately they found themselves surrounded by a pushing mob of men, which presently resolved itself into an orderly square, ten men to a side, enclosing the civilians and the pseudo-emperor.
O'Rourke took command, unsheathing his sword and drawing his revolver.
"Fix bayonets!" he cried.
There was a heavy thudding as the Mausers grounded upon the sand, and there followed the rattle of steel. In another moment the square bristled like a hedgehog, with the long, curved blades outturned upon the end of each firearm.
So far O'Rourke's attention had been directed solely to
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