d came down that I might pass
out.

The sun was setting as I hastened along the streets. I must reach the
Rue Coupejarrets before dark, else there was no hope for me. A man in
his senses would have known there was no hope anyway. Who but a madman
would think of venturing back, forsworn, to those three villains, for
the killing of one? It would be a miracle if aught resulted but failure
and death. Yet I felt no jot of fear as I plunged into the mesh of
crooked streets in the Coupejarrets quarter--only ardour to reach my
goal. When, on turning a corner, I came upon a group of idlers choking
the narrow ruelle, I said to myself that a dozen Parisians in the way
could no more stop me than they could stop a charge of horse. All heels
and elbows, I pushed into them. But, to my abasement, promptly was I
seized upon by a burly porter and bidden, with a cuff, to mind my
manners. Then I discovered the occasion of the crowd to be a little
procession of choristers out of a neighbouring church--St. Jean of the
Spire it was, though I knew then no name for it. The boys were singing,
the watchers quiet, bareheaded. They sang as if there were nothing in
the world but piety and love. The last level rays of the sun crowned
them with radiant aureoles, painted their white robes with glory. I shut
my eyes, dazzled; it was as if I beheld a heavenly host. When I opened
them again the folk at my side were kneeling as the cross came by. I
knelt, too, but the holy sign spoke to me only of the crucifix I had
trampled on, of Yeux-gris and his lies. I prayed to the good God to let
me kill Yeux-gris, prayed, kneeling there on the cobbles, with a fervour
I had never reached before. When I rose I ran on at redoubled speed,
never doubting that a just God would strengthen my hand, would make my
cause his.

I entered the little court. The shutter was fastened, as before, but I
had my dagger, and could again free the bolt. I could creep up-stairs
and mayhap stab Yeux-gris before they were aware of my coming. But that
was not my purpose. I was no bravo to strike in the back, but the
instrument of a righteous vengeance. He must know why he died.

One to three, I had no chance. But if I knocked openly it was likely
that Yeux-gris, being my patron, would be the one to come down to me.
Then there was the opportunity, man to man. If it were Grammont or the
lackey, I would boldly declare that I would give my news to none but
Yeux-gris. In pursuance of this plan