will cripple the Emperor because you deliver our stores into the hands of his enemies? Take care, men, take care," he added more earnestly; "'tis you who have run your heads into a noose, and with every outrage which you commit this night that noose will become tighter round your necks, and you'll find that I--your master--will be more menacing and more fearsome to you dead--murdered foully by you--than ever I was in life." His powerful, rugged voice rose above the murmur of the storm. Some of the men listened to him in sullen silence; the magnetic influence which "the General" had exercised over them in the past was not altogether gone; his powerful personality, his cool courage, the simplicity of his words, reacted upon their evil natures, and also upon their cowardice. There was a vast deal of common sense in what M. le Marechal was saying, and they, after all, had only been promised a hundred francs apiece for an exceedingly risky piece of work. But there were some ringleaders among them who expected to get far more out of their treachery than a paltry hundred francs; they relied on de Puisaye's vague promises of freedom, on his assurance that unconditional pardon for past infractions against the law would be granted to them by a grateful King. They--and, above all, Leroux--felt also that they were committed too far now to dare to draw back, and even while de Maurel spoke they broke in on his words with sneers and taunts, and, above all, with threats. "You seem to think, M. le Marechal," said Leroux in husky tones--for he was getting feeble with loss of blood--"you seem to think that I and my mates are here to murder you." "Why else are you here?" rejoined de Maurel coolly. "You do not suppose, I imagine, that I am like to vacate the place and leave you to work your evil will with my property?" "'Twere the wisest thing to do," retorted one of the men. "Eh, mates?" "Yes! yes!" came with a volley of savage oaths from every side. "Throw up your hands, M. le Marechal," added a voice from the crowd, "and we'll see that neither you nor your sweetheart come to any harm!" "Silence, you blackguard," thundered de Maurel fiercely, "or, by God, I'll pick you out of the crowd and shoot you like the dog that you are." "Throw up your hands, M. le Marechal," broke in Leroux roughly; "the men have no quarrel with you. But cease to defy and threaten them, or by Satan there'll be trouble." "The trouble will come, my men, if you persist in this insensate mutiny. Throw down your muskets now at once, and go back to your compounds while there's yet time, and before the consequences of your own folly descend upon your heads." A shout of derision greeted these words. "The consequences of your folly will descend on your head, M. le Marechal," sneered Leroux. "Get out of our way. We have parleyed enough. Eh, my mates?"