"That of M. de Noyard."
"What? A duel?"
"A kind of duel,--a strange mistake!
"The devil! Won't the Queen-mother give thanks! And won't the Duke of
Guise be angry!"
"M. de Noyard is not dead yet. His wound may not be fatal."
I led the way into the house and up the steps to the apartment. It was
now lighted up by the torch which Jacques had brought. De Noyard was
still lying in the position in which he had been when I left him. The
servant stood beside him, looking down at his face, and holding the torch
so as to light up the features.
"How do you feel now, monsieur?" I asked, hastening forward.
There was no answer. The servant raised his eyes to me, and said, in a
tone of unnatural calmness, "Do you not see that he is dead, M. de la
Tournoire?"
Horror-stricken, I knelt beside the body. The heart no longer beat; the
face was still,--the eyes stared between unquivering lids, in the light
of the torch.
"Oh, my God! I have killed him!" I murmured.
"Come away. You can do nothing here," said De Rilly, quietly. He caught
me by the shoulder, and led me out of the room.
"Let us leave this neighborhood as soon as possible," he said, as we
descended the stairs. "It is most unfortunate that the valet knows your
name. He heard me speak it at the tavern, and he will certainly recall
also that I hailed you as one of the French Guards."
"Why is that unfortunate?" I asked, still deprived of thought by the
horror of having killed so honorable a gentleman, who had not harmed me.
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