Those words struck the lady as though with an electric shock. She started back and gazed with distended horror-lighted eyes and rigid countenance at Gabrielle; her hands fell paralysed at her side; her mouth moved as though she would speak, but not a word escaped her lips. At that moment the dogs began to bark furiously in the yard, and continued for some minutes. Madame Berthier slowly recovered such self-possession as she ever had. ‘Did he mean that?’ she asked; ‘he said that those who were dangerous were chained up. Gabrielle, tell me, did he threaten _that_ to me?’ ‘Madame, he said as much.’ The unhappy woman was silent again. She seemed cowed at the very idea, her feet worked nervously on the floor, and her fingers twitched; every line of her face bore the impress of abject fear. ‘Oh, Gabrielle! do not desert me!’ she entreated piteously. ‘I have no friends. My husband is against me, my father is indifferent. I fling myself on you. Do not desert me--Gabrielle, Gabrielle!’ the cry of pain pierced the girl to the heart. ‘My dearest madame,’ said she; ‘I will follow you.’ ‘Gabrielle, did you hear aright? Was it not the cat they were going to take to his castle? Hark!’ There was a sound, a tramp of feet in the corridor. ‘Who are these, who are coming?’ shrieked the poor woman. The girl was too frightened to move from her place. She stood trembling, and the tread drew nearer. ‘Fly to the door, shut it, lock it!’ cried Madame Berthier, throwing herself from her chair on the ground and tearing her grey hair with her discoloured hands. Gabrielle stood irresolute but one moment, then she fell on her knees beside her mistress, and raised her head and kissed her, as the tears flowed from her eyes over the frightened deathly countenance of the unfortunate woman, whose trembling was so violent and convulsive that the floor vibrated under her. ‘Gabrielle!’ gasped the poor lady, suddenly becoming calmer; ‘if I be taken, remember M. Lindet is your protector. Do not remain here.’ Then her mind rambled off to the horror which oppressed her. The door was thrown open, and Berthier entered with his eyes twinkling, and his cheeks wagging with laughter. Behind him were some soldiers. ‘In the king’s name!’ he exclaimed. ‘Ha! get up!’ He stood instantly before his wife, rubbing his hands. His eye lighted on Gabrielle, and he saluted her with a nod and leer. ‘Now, dear! what did I say?’ Madame Berthier hid her face in the girl’s bosom. All fierceness, all her courage, every atom of power seemed to have disappeared before the awful fear. ‘I will raise her,’ said Berthier. ‘No,’ exclaimed Gabrielle; ‘she is in my care.’ ‘In your care!’ laughed Berthier; ‘much good your care will do her.’ The girl gently lifted the frightened woman to her feet, but she could not stand without support. ‘She is dangerous,’ said Berthier to the officers. ‘Secure her. She attempted my life with a dagger. Take care, she may stab one of you.’