She sprang before them, between their swords and their prey.
"You shall not do it; you shall not do it!" she cried, and her face looked drawn, her eyes distraught.

"It is murder--murder, you curs!" And the memory of how that dainty little lady stood undaunted before so much bared steel, to shield him from those assassins, was one that abode ever after with Garnache.
"Mademoiselle," said he, in a quiet voice, "if you will but stand aside there will be some murder done among them first." But she did not move.

Marius clenched his hands, fretted by the delay.
The Dowager looked on and smiled and patted her dog's head.

To her mademoiselle now turned in appeal.
"Madame," she exclaimed, "you'll not allow it.

You'll not let them do this thing.