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The Scarlet Pimpernel

XXX. The Schooner
Marguerite's aching heart stood still. She felt, more than she heard, the men on
the watch preparing for the fight. Her senses told her that each, with sword in
hand, was crouching, ready for the spring.
The voice came nearer and nearer; in the vast immensity of these lonely cliffs,
with the loud murmur of the sea below, it was impossible to say how near, or how
far, nor yet from which direction came that cheerful singer, who sang to God to
save his King, whilst he himself was in such deadly danger. Faint at first, the
voice grew louder and louder; from time to time a small pebble detached itself
apparently from beneath the firm tread of the singer, and went rolling down the
rocky cliffs to the beach below.
Marguerite as she heard, felt that her very life was slipping away, as if when that
voice drew nearer, when that singer became entrapped . . .
She distinctly heard the click of Desgas' gun close to her. . . .
No! no! no! no! Oh, God in heaven! this cannot be! let Armand's blood then be on
her own head! let her be branded as his murderer! let even he, whom she loved,
despise and loathe her for this, but God! oh God! save him at any cost!
With a wild shriek, she sprang to her feet, and darted round the rock, against
which she had been cowering; she saw the little red gleam through the chinks of
the hut; she ran up to it and fell against its wooden walls, which she began to
hammer with clenched fists in an almost maniacal frenzy, while she shouted,--
"Armand! Armand! for God's sake fire! your leader is near! he is coming! he is
betrayed! Armand! Armand! fire in Heaven's name!"
She was seized and thrown to the ground. She lay there moaning, bruised, not
caring, but still half-sobbing, half-shrieking,--
"Percy, my husband, for God's sake fly! Armand! Armand! why don't you fire?"
"One of you stop that woman screaming," hissed Chauvelin, who hardly could
refrain from striking her.
Something was thrown over her face; she could not breathe, and perforce she
was silent.
The bold singer, too, had become silent, warned, no doubt, of his impending
danger by Marguerite's frantic shrieks. The men had sprung to their feet, there
 
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