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Updated: June 19, 2025
'Because he is here, Mademoiselle. 'Here? she exclaimed. 'At Cocheforet? 'Yes, Mademoiselle, I answered soberly. 'I am he. 'You! she cried, in a voice which pierced my heart. 'You are M. de Berault? It is impossible! But, glancing askance at her I could not face her I saw that the blood had left her cheeks. 'Yes, Mademoiselle, I answered in a low tone. 'De Barthe was my mother's name.
'EH BIEN!, he said with marvellous composure. 'Taken at last! Well, I was tired of it. 'You are my prisoner, M. de Cocheforet, I answered. 'Move a hand and I kill you. But you have still a choice. 'Truly? he said, raising his eyebrows. 'Yes. My orders are to take you to Paris alive or dead.
Surrender to me before they come, and give me your parole, and I will do all I can for your comfort. Delay, and you must fall into their hands. There can be no escape. 'You will take my word? he said slowly. 'Give it, and you may keep your pistols, M. de Cocheforet. 'Tell me at least that you are not alone. 'I am not alone. 'Then I give it, he said with a sigh.
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