At length the young officer with the remainder came down to the central hall, and with a ringing shout called his men to him. At this Pascal stepped toward him. “I am sorry, monsieur, but I have found it necessary to detain your men for a time.” At a word from the officer every musket was levelled point blank at him, but he remained perfectly cool. “Who are you?” demanded the officer. “But whoever you are, you are my prisoner, and if you move my men will fire.” “Your men can fire if you order, monsieur,” answered Pascal calmly, “but it will be quite useless. You are covered by forty muskets,” and he waved his hand round the place where his soldiers now showed themselves. “For your own sake I urge you to avoid bloodshed.” “By God, I’ll not be trapped like this,” cried the officer furiously, and drawing his sword he rushed to cut Pascal down. “I am unarmed and you are too brave a man to strike me,” said Pascal very quietly, as with folded arms he awaited the attack, looking him steadily in the face. His daring had its effect, and his opponent’s arm dropped even as he was in the act of striking, and the next moment he and his men were surrounded by three times their number. “I owe you an explanation, monsieur,” said Pascal. “Those you seek are here in Malincourt, and it was impossible to allow you to obey your orders. We are in strong force and, save for this ruse, we should have resisted to the death. As it is, no harm will come either to you or your men. On that you have my word as a soldier. But for the present at least we cannot let you carry news back to the Castle. You will give me your word not to resist or try to escape, and I will not ask you for your sword. Your men’s muskets we have had to take, as we are short of arms.” The officer made a great effort to imitate Pascal’s coolness, but he was very young, and this humiliation before his men was unendurable. He had to struggle for self-control and well nigh broke down. “I give no parole,” he said, his lips trembling. “I respect your courage,” said Pascal, with both dignity and feeling, “and I beg you to spare me the distress of resorting to the only alternative.” “Not the only alternative, by God,” cried the officer desperately, and turning suddenly he hurled himself at the soldiers who stood between him and the door. But they were tough campaigners, much too wary to be caught by surprise, and in an instant his sword was knocked out of his hand by a blow from a clubbed musket which disabled his arm and he found himself in the grip of those who knew how to hold him. “I am very sorry, monsieur, but the fault is with you,” said Pascal, and with a sign to the men he was led away. As he passed, Lucette met him, but he would not look at her, and hung his head that she might not see the traces of mortification in his face. “I am sorry, monsieur,” she said gently, “but I was fighting for those dearer to me than life.”