The languor forsook
him and he pulled himself together and sat as upright as his
bonds would permit him. Something interesting was about to take
place.
Madame made a gesture which the troopers comprehended, and they
departed. Fitzgerald, with gloomy eyes, folded his arms across
his breast, and with one hand curled and uncurled the drooping
ends of his mustache; the Colonel frowned and rubbed the gray
bristles on his upper lip; the countess twisted and untwisted
her handkerchief; Madame alone evinced no agitation, unless the
perpendicular line above her nose could have been a sign of such.
This lengthened and deepened as her glance met the prisoner's.
He eyed them all with an indifference which was tinctured with
contempt and amusement.
"Well, Monsieur Carewe," said Madame, coldly, "what have you to
say?"
"A number of things, Madame," he answered, in a tone which
bordered the insolent; "only they would not be quite proper for
you to hear."
The Colonel's hand slid from his lip over his mouth; he shuffled
his feet and stared at the bayonets and the grease spots on the
table.
"Carewe," said Fitzgerald, endeavoring to speak calmly, "you
have broken your word to me as a gentleman and you have lied to me.
Pages:
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412