ll back a step or two, and the two young men saw the comte
raise himself slowly and painfully upon one hand. Manicamp threw the
pistol away a dozen paces, and ran to his friend, uttering a cry of
delight. De Wardes wiped his forehead, which was covered with a cold
perspiration.

"It was just in time," he murmured.

"Where are you hurt?" inquired Manicamp of De Guiche, "and whereabouts
are you wounded?"

De Guiche showed him his mutilated hand and his chest covered with
blood.

"Comte," exclaimed De Wardes, "I am accused of having assassinated you:
speak, I implore you, and say that I fought loyally."

"Perfectly so," said the wounded man; "Monsieur de Wardes fought quite
loyally, and whoever may say the contrary will make me his enemy."

"Then, sir," said Manicamp, "assist me, in the first place, to carry
this poor fellow back, and I will afterward give you every satisfaction
you please; or, if you are in a hurry, we can do better still; let us
stanch the blood from the comte's wounds here, with your
pocket-handkerchief and mine, and then, as there are two shots left, we
can have them between us."

"Thank you," said De Wardes. "Twice already in one hour I have seen
death too close at hand to be agreeable; I don't like his look at all,
and I prefer your apologies."

Manicamp burst out laughing, and Guiche, too, in spite of his
sufferings. The two young men wished to carry him, but he declared he
felt himself quite strong enough to walk alone. The ball had broken his
ring-finger and his little finger, and then had glanced along his side,
but without penetrating deeply into his chest. It was the pain rather
than the seriousness of the wound, therefore, which had overcome De
Guiche. Manicamp passed his arm under one of the comte's shoulders, and
De Wardes did the same with the other, and in this way they brought him
back to Fontainebleau, to the house of the same doctor who had been
present at the death of the Franciscan, Aramis' predecessor.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE KING'S SUPPER.

The king, while these matters were being arranged, had sat down to the
supper-table, and the not very large number of guests invited for that
day had taken their seats, after the usual gesture intimating the royal
permission to be seated. At this period of Louis XIV.'s reign, although
etiquette was not governed by the strict regulations which subsequently
were adopted, the French court had entirely thrown aside the traditions
of