Let the foul fiend choose! by all the gods, Cairnes should brain her where she stood, and, Heaven helping me to do the deed, the one I loved should never die by torture! She took her own time for decision, indifferently ignoring the howls of rage, her thin lips curling in contemptuous smile, her glance yet upon the startled Chevalier.

Laying her hand upon his sleeve, she said in French: "You hear the wolves howl, Monsieur?
They are mad for French blood." He shrugged his shoulders, staring into her expressionless face, then down upon the surging mob below.
"Saint Giles! give them sufficient of something else," he replied, striving to pretend indifference, yet with a falter in his voice.

"You pledged us safety if we would accompany you here." "I pledged _you_ safety, Monsieur," she corrected haughtily.

"I gave no word of promise as to others.

Yet circumstances have changed.