'The Holy League!' he exclaimed with a savage scorn. 'Madame, though we stand delivered unto these sons of Belial, I must speak, for my heart is full. Yea! Shall my lips be sealed before the enemies of the Lord! The Holy League! Ha! ha! There is no Holy League. It died at Ivry. There did the Lord God break it clean, as of old. He shattered the Amorites of the mountains. Lo! Even now His own champion is at hand, and ere the morrow's sun sets he shall smite these men of sin hip and thigh, as when the Chosen slew His enemies in Gibeon.' '_Corps du diable!_ A rope for the old Huguenot!' exclaimed Nicholas. 'Thou swearest rightly, villain,' and the fanatic glared at the sergeant with fierce eyes. 'Swear ever so by thy master, for thou art in truth a limb of the body of Sin.' 'Thou shalt roast like a chestnut over a log fire for this,' roared Nicholas, shaking his halberd at his adversary. 'And thou in Hell,' was the undaunted reply; 'and the smell of thy burning will be as the scent of a savoury bakemeat to the Lord my God.' So savagely prophetic was his tone; so fierce a glance did the bound Huguenot cast at Nicholas that it burnt to cinders any reply he might have had ready and reduced him to a speechless fury. Madame shivered slightly; but meeting my eyes and the repressed laugh in them, a faint smile parted her lips. This was for an instant only, and her face was grave enough as she turned to her companion, speaking with a quiet dignity, 'There is a time for everything, _mon pere_--at present your speech is a trifle out of place.' The beetle brows of the Huguenot met together as he gave reply-- 'There is no place which is out of place to testify----' but here de Gomeron cut in with his quick stern voice, 'Be silent, sir! or else a gag will stop your tongue,' and then with a bow, 'Madame, it goes to my heart to detain you; but war is war, and we have no option. Will you not be seated? All that this poor hut affords is yours,' and he bent low again, perhaps to hide the expression in his eyes. She made no effort to take the chair he offered, but burst out passionately: 'Monsieur, I see you command here, and it is to you to whom I must appeal. Monsieur, I give you my word of honour we are no spies. The rules of war allow the ransom of prisoners, and anything you name will be paid. Monsieur, I pray you let us go.' Whilst she spoke my glance rested on de Gomeron's face, and I saw that his eyes were drinking in her beauty greedily, and there was a look in them that recalled to my mind the stories of the sack of Ham. As she finished her appeal Madame turned towards the captain with a gesture of entreaty; but in this movement she too saw that in his voice and manner which paled her cheek to marble, and she made a half-irresolute step towards her companion as if for protection. De Gomeron observed this, and laughed under his heavy black moustache, and I felt that the strong wine and his evil heart were moving him to an atrocious deed.