If you'll give me some excuse, I swear I'd rather spare your
life.
PRISONER.
[_Laughing_.]
Thank you, General; but frankly, I'd rather give you some excuse to
take it.
_Tremendous explosion heard in the distance. Then a second explosion.
The Faubourg in middle ground is blown up and is seen to burn into a
blaze_.
LA ROCHE.
My God!--See!--The Faubourg!
PRISONER.
[_Triumphantly_.]
Blown up and burning!--In an hour the houses that were to shelter your
attack on our defenses will be gone, and you will have to fight our
forces in the open field.--That means defeat for you.
LA HOGUE.
Sacristi! Gag this rogue, or we'll be whipped before we fight.
LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN _writes hastily, and strikes a bell. Enter GOUROC,
who starts and goes out again with a gesture of menace towards the_
PRISONER. _Enter_ ORDERLY.
LA ROCHE.
[_To_ ORDERLY.]
Despatch these orders instantly, and send a guard with loaded muskets
here at once.
[_Exit_ ORDERLY.]
[_Turning despondently to_ LA HOGUE.]
I fear this is a death-blow to our plans to-night.
PRISONER.
A death-blow dealt by me!--You'd better kill me quickly before I do
more damage.
LA ROCHE.
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