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Updated: May 9, 2025
Put back your swords, I implore you!" And with this she clung to De Ganache's arm. He paled to the lips as he tried to free himself. "Diane, 'tis our only way! Keep back, Diane!" But for answer she clung all the more to him, and it seemed as if she were covering him from my sword, as she cried out again: "No, no! It is too terrible! I will not have it! It must not be!"
With a glance of contempt at it he flung it on the table in front of De Lorgnac, who had joined us, saying as he did so: "There are De Ganache's letters. I had almost forgotten them." The packet had fallen on the table, almost under De Lorgnac's eyes.
Diane let her hand fall from De Ganache's arm and turned to me in astonishment. And De Ganache stared at me with wide-open eyes, and asked slowly, dropping his words out: "You say this? you pledge your word?" "I have said so. I undertook to take mademoiselle to Paris, and to see her in safety there, at the cost of my life if need be.
At the corner of the Rue St. Thomas, De Lorgnac bade us farewell, but as he left us I took the opportunity to whisper to him the news of De Ganache's arrest. "Then put wings to your business," he said, and pressing my hand went off, and mademoiselle and I were alone. Silently she took the arm I offered, and we hastened towards the river.
Guards, loose him!" Without another word or look he stepped forward, and began to limp slowly down the winding stair. As the guards cut the cords that bound De Ganache's arms those who were on the tower crowded round to congratulate him; but he seemed dazed, and unable to realise his fortune. With an effort, however, he brought himself together, and silently took my hand.
One glance at mademoiselle and De Ganache shrank back; but her voice rang out clear and sweet, for she, with all of us, mistook the reason of De Ganache's terrible emotion. "Deny it not, De Ganache! Be not afraid." But with a cry De Ganache put his hands to his face and turned aside. A woman began to sob amongst the spectators, and someone dropped a sword with an angry clash on the parquet.
Ménorval of the Light Horse gave him a sword, someone else a hat, another a cloak. The colour came and went from De Ganache's sunburnt face as, stammering his thanks, he mounted. Then he put out his hand to me. "Monsieur," he said, "I can never forget; and De Ganache is ever your friend. Au revoir, gentlemen!"
"Diane," he cried in a terrible voice as he stretched his arms out towards her, "it was for your sake!" But she, his destroyer, scarce glanced at him from her place on the judgment seat. "He is quite mad!" And with a musical laugh she leaned back, and picking out a comfit from a little jewelled box began to nibble at it daintily as De Ganache's hands fell helplessly to his sides.
One whisper of the past, one whisper of the present ay, the present I have but to breathe De Ganache's name." "Enough!" she gasped, and Simon loosed his hold, and she sat for a moment, her face buried in her hands. "Come, Diane," and Simon changed his tone, "you have too many enemies at your gate to quarrel with old friends. We need you and you need us."
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