the blood welled and bubbled from the
ghastly wound to saturate the poor lad's garments.

With white face and twitching lips, Andre-Louis looked up at M. de La
Tour d'Azyr, who stood surveying his work with a countenance of grave
but remorseless interest.

"You have killed him!" cried Andre-Louis.

"Of course."

The Marquis ran a lace handkerchief along his blade to wipe it. As he
let the dainty fabric fall, he explained himself. "He had, as I told
him, a too dangerous gift of eloquence."

And he turned away, leaving completest understanding with Andre-Louis.
Still supporting the limp, draining body, the young man called to him.

"Come back, you cowardly murderer, and make yourself quite safe by
killing me too!"

The Marquis half turned, his face dark with anger. Then M. de
Chabrillane set a restraining hand upon his arm. Although a party
throughout to the deed, the Chevalier was a little appalled now that it
was done. He had not the high stomach of M. de La Tour d'Azyr, and he
was a good deal younger.

"Come away," he said. "The lad is raving. They were friends."

"You heard what he said?" quoth the Marquis.

"Nor can he, or you, or any man deny it," flung back Andre-Louis.
"Yourself, monsieur, you made confession when you gave me now the reason
why you killed him. You did it because you feared him."

"If that were true--what, then?" asked the great gentleman.

"Do you ask? Do you understand of life and humanity nothing but how to
wear a coat and dress your hair--oh, yes, and to handle weapons against
boys and priests? Have you no mind to think, no soul into which you can
turn its vision? Must you be told that it is a coward's part to kill the
thing he fears, and doubly a coward's part to kill in this way? Had you
stabbed him in the back with a knife, you would have shown the courage
of your vileness. It would have been a vileness undisguised. But you
feared the consequences of that, powerful as you are; and so you shelter
your cowardice under the pretext of a duel."

The Marquis shook off his cousin's hand, and took a step forward,
holding now his sword like a whip. But again the Chevalier caught and
held him.

"No, no, Gervais! Let be, in God's name!"

"Let him come, monsieur," raved Andre-Louis, his voice thick and
concentrated. "Let him complete his coward's work on me, and thus make
himself safe from a coward's wages."

M. de Chabrillane let his cousin go. He came white to the lips, his eyes