is hand on his sword.

"Stay!" she cried, the word ringing shrilly through the room. "You are
betrayed! There is some one--there!" she pointed to the closet--"who has
heard--all! All! Oh, sire, mercy! mercy!"

As the last words passed the girl's writhing lips she clutched at her
throat: she seemed to fight a moment for breath, for life: then with a
stifled shriek fell in a swoon to the ground.

A second's silence. Then a whistling sound as half a dozen swords were
snatched from the scabbards. The veteran La Noue sprang to the door:
others ran to the windows and stood before them. Only Henry--after a
swift glance at Toussaint, who, pale and astonished, leaned over his
daughter--stood still, his fingers on his hilt. Another second of
suspense, and before any one spoke, the cupboard door swung slowly open,
and Felix Portail, pale to the lips, stood before them.

"What do you here?" cried Henry, restraining by a gesture those who
would have instantly flung themselves upon the spy.

"I came to see her," Felix said. He was quite calm, but a perspiration
cold as death stood on his brow, and his dilated eyes wandered from one
to another. "You surprised me. Toussaint knows--that I was her
sweetheart," he murmured.

"Ay, wretched man, you came to see her! And for what else?" Henry
replied, his eyes, as a rule, so kindly, bent on the other in a gaze
fixed and relentless.

A sudden visible quiver--as it were the agony of death--shot through
Portail's frame. He opened his mouth, but for a while no sound came. His
eyes sought the nearest sword with a horrid side-glance. "Kill me at
once," he gasped, "before she--before----"

He never finished the sentence. With an oath the nearest Huguenot lunged
at his breast, and fell back foiled by a blow from the king's hand.
"Back!" cried Henry, his eyes flashing as another sprang forward, and
would have done the work. "Will you trench on the King's justice in his
presence? Sheath your swords, all save the Sieur de la Noue, and the
gentlemen who guard the windows!"

"He must die!" several voices cried; and two men still pressed forward
viciously.

"Think, sire! Think what you do," cried La Noue himself, warning in his
voice. "He has in his hand the life of every man here! And they are your
men, risking all for the crown."

"True," Henry replied smiling; "but I ask no man to run a risk I will
not take myself."

A murmur of dissatisfaction burst forth. Several who had sheathed, drew