Eliza planted herself on the shore, took out the pistol, cocked the hammer, and took dead aim at the dragoon from perhaps ten paces. 'This may fire or it may not,' she said in French. 'You have until I count to ten to decide whether you'll gamble your life and your immortal soul on it. One . . . two . . . three . . . did I mention I'm on the rag? Four . . .'