"Stay, my lord!" interposed Lisle, becoming violently excited; "you somewhat over-rate your authority in this matter. She is no longer under your control, and so unhand her instantly! Come to me, Virginia! You are my wedded wife, and no human power can separate us now." The reply of the fierce Spaniard was a deadly thrust at Louis with his sword. Some fatal work would have ensued, had not the little major struck aside the blade, and desired him to remember that the laws of war must be respected, and that Monsieur Lisle was a prisoner of France. Louis’s blood boiled within him, while poor Virginia covered her face with her hands, and shrieked aloud to behold her husband and father glaring at each other with eyes of fire, until by the command of the latter she was borne away to her chamber in the keep. "_Demonios!_ major, how did you dare to stay my hand?" asked he, turning furiously to the Frenchman. "_Parbleu, monsieur le duc!_" "Do you suppose I will ever permit the honour of my long-descended house to be stained by the pretensions of a base and degenerate fool? a nameless Briton, _par Diez_!" "Proud Spaniard!" replied Louis, resentment glowing in his cheek and kindling in his eye; "my ancestry were not less splendid than your own; but mine is the degradation, in allying myself with a traitor like you, who has abandoned his king and country to serve under the banner of a savage invader! But the virtues of such a woman as Virginia might redeem your whole race from perdition." "_Parbleu!_" said the major again. "And recollect, gentlemen and soldiers," continued Lisle, "that if I am maltreated by any within these walls, you may all smart for it yet. See you, sirs, the allies are close at hand, driving the boasting soldiers of the Emperor before them as the wind drives the mist, and the whole of Gascony will be theirs before another sun sets."