Presently a low sound struck my ear, something between a growl and a
groan. I quickly arose, left the shed, and ran to a clump of bushes at
the side of the inn, whence the sound proceeded. Separating the bushes I
saw, lying prone on the ground among them, the stalwart body of Blaise.
"What is the matter?" I cried. "Speak! Are you wounded?"
The only reply was a kind of muffled roar. Looking closer, I saw that
Blaise's mouth and head were tightly bound by the detached sleeve of a
doublet, and this had deterred him from articulating. I saw, also,
that his legs had been tied together, and his hands fastened behind
him with a rope.
I rapidly released his legs, and he stood up. Then I undid his hands,
and he stretched out his arms with relief. Finally I unbound his mouth
and he spoke:
"Oh, the whelps of hell! To fall on a man when he is sleeping off his
wine, and tie him up like a trussed fowl! I will have the blood of every
cursed knave of them! And the maid! Grandmother of the devil! They have
taken the maid! Come, monsieur, let us cut them into pieces, and save
the maid!"
But I held him back, and cried: "And mademoiselle, what of her? Speak,
you drunken dog! Have you let her be harmed?"
"She is perfectly safe," he answered, in his turn holding me back from
rushing to the inn. "I do not think that she was even awakened. What
use to let her know what has happened? If we rescue the maid and the
maid will hold her tongue, mademoiselle will never know what danger she
has escaped.
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