f the dead horse. To the right of the horse, upon the
dark grass, with his face against the ground, the poor comte lay, bathed
in his blood. He had remained in the same spot, and did not even seem to
have made the slightest movement. Manicamp threw himself on his knees,
lifted the comte in his arms, and found him quite cold, and steeped in
blood. He let him gently fall again. Then, stretching out his hand and
feeling all over the ground close to where the comte lay, he sought
until he found De Guiche's pistol.

"By Heaven!" he said, rising to his feet, pale as death, and with the
pistol in his hand, "you are not mistaken, he is quite dead."

"Dead!" repeated De Wardes.

"Yes; and his pistol is still loaded," added Manicamp, looking into the
pan.

"But I told you that I took aim as he was walking toward me, and fired
at him at the very moment he was going to fire at me."

"Are you quite sure that you have fought with him, Monsieur de Wardes? I
confess that I am very much afraid that it has been a foul
assassination. Nay, nay, no exclamations! You have had your three shots,
and his pistol is still loaded. You have killed his horse, and he, De
Guiche, one of the best marksmen in France, has not touched even either
your horse or yourself. Well, Monsieur de Wardes, you have been very
unlucky in bringing me here; all the blood in my body seems to have
mounted to my head; and I verily believe that since so good an
opportunity presents itself, I shall blow out your brains on the spot.
So, Monsieur de Wardes, recommend your soul to Heaven."

"Monsieur Manicamp, you cannot think of such a thing!"

"On the contrary, I am thinking of it very strongly."

"Would you assassinate me?"

"Without the slightest remorse, at least for the present."

"Are you a gentleman?"

"I have given a great many proofs of it."

"Let me defend my life, then, at least."

"Very likely; in order, I suppose, that you may do to me what you have
done to poor De Guiche."

And Manicamp slowly raised his pistol to the height of De Wardes'
breast, and, with arms stretched out, and a fixed, determined look on
his face, took a careful aim. De Wardes did not attempt a flight; he was
completely terrified. In the midst, however, of this horrible silence,
which lasted about a second, but which seemed an age to De Wardes, a
faint sigh was heard.

"Oh," exclaimed De Wardes, "he still lives! Help, De Guiche, I am about
to be assassinated!"

Manicamp fe