‘Then you have still time, mademoiselle,’ I whispered, retreating a step and laying my hand on the curtain before the window. Perhaps I affected greater coolness than I felt. ‘It is not too late. If you choose to remain, well and good. I cannot help it. If, on the other hand, you decide to trust yourself to me, I swear, on the honour of a gentleman, to be worthy of the trust--to serve you truly and protect you to the last! I can say no more.’ She trembled, looking from me to the door, on which some one had just begun to knock loudly. That seemed to decide her. Her lips apart, her eyes full of excitement, she turned hastily to Fanchette. ‘Ay, go if you like,’ the woman answered doggedly, reading the meaning of her look. ‘There cannot be a greater villain than the one we know of. But once started, heaven help us, for if he overtakes us we’ll pay dearly for it!’ The girl did not speak herself, but it was enough. The noise at the door increased each second, and began to be mingled with angry appeals to Fanchette to open, and with threats in case she delayed. I cut the matter short by snatching up one of the saddle-bags--the other we left behind--and flung back the curtain which covered the window. At the same time the woman dashed out the light--a timely precaution--and throwing open the casement I stepped on to the balcony, the others following me closely. The moon had risen high, and flooding with light the small open space about the house enabled me to see clearly all round the foot of the ladder, to my surprise Fresnoy was not at his post, nor was he to be seen anywhere; but as, at the moment I observed this, an outcry away to my left, at the rear of the chateau, came to my ears, and announced that the danger was no longer confined to the interior of the house, I concluded that he had gone that way to intercept the attack. Without more, therefore, I began to descend as quickly as I could, my sword under one arm and the bag under the other. I was half-way down, and mademoiselle was already stepping on to the ladder to follow, when I heard footsteps below, and saw him run up, his sword in his hand. ‘Quick, Fresnoy!’ I cried. ‘To the horses and unfasten them! quick!’ I slid down the rest of the way, thinking he had gone to do my bidding. But my feet were scarcely on the ground when a tremendous blow in the side sent me staggering three paces from the ladder. The attack was so sudden, so unexpected, that but for the sight of Fresnoy’s scowling face, wild with rage, at my shoulder, and the sound of his fierce breathing as he strove to release his sword, which had passed through my saddle-bag, I might never have known who struck the blow, or how narrow had been my escape.