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“I have no discretion to think in such a case,” I answered firmly, although the sight of her suffering wrung my heart.

Almost before the words were out of my mouth she sprang forward in a wild attempt to seize my revolver. But I had been in too many tight corners in my life to be taken unawares, totally unexpected though the manœuvre was, and I wrenched my hand away and held her harmless with the other.

“This is worse than madness, mademoiselle!” I cried.

She gave up the contest then, and drawing away, fell into a lounge in an attitude of despair.

I had won the victory, but the fruits were too bitter. I put the revolver away in my pocket and crossed to her.

“Will you give me the papers?” I asked.

“No, I will die first, and so shall you! Oh God, how hard you are! I wish I had never seen you.”

“Then I will go with you to Brabinsk, and we can settle things there.”

She rose at once and shook off her emotion.

“Do you mean that?”

“Where I go is of no consequence to any one. I have to convince you of your mistake. I will go to Brabinsk. I have to save you.”