He was unarmed, but sustained, no doubt, by the consciousness of his
rank, he advanced with clinched fists toward Coconnas and his
companions, who retreated, terrified at the lightning darting from his
eyes.

"Ha! and will you murder a son of France, too?" cried the duke. Then, as
they recoiled,--"Ho, there! captain of the guard! Hang every one of
these ruffians!"

More alarmed at the sight of this weaponless young man than he would
have been at the aspect of a regiment of reiters or lansquenets,
Coconnas had already reached the door. La Huriere was leaping downstairs
like a deer, and the soldiers were jostling and pushing one another in
the vestibule in their endeavors to escape, finding the door far too
small for their great desire to be outside it. Meantime Marguerite had
instinctively thrown the damask coverlid of her bed over La Mole, and
withdrawn from him.

When the last murderer had departed the Duc d'Alencon came back:

"Sister," he cried, seeing Marguerite all dabbled with blood, "are you
wounded?" And he sprang toward his sister with a solicitude which would
have done credit to his affection if he had not been charged with
harboring too deep an affection for a brother to entertain for a sister.

"No," said she; "I think not, or, if so, very slightly."

"But this blood," said the duke, running his trembling hands all over
Marguerite's body. "Where does it come from?"

"I know not," replied she; "one of those wretches laid his hand on me,
and perhaps he was wounded."

"What!" cried the duke, "he dared to touch my sister? Oh, if you had
only pointed him out to me, if you had told me which one it was, if I
knew where to find him"--

"Hush!" said Marguerite.

"And why?" asked Francois.

"Because if you were seen at this time of night in my room"--

"Can't a brother visit his sister, Marguerite?"

The queen gave the duke a look so keen and yet so threatening that the
young man drew back.

"Yes, yes, Marguerite," said he, "you are right, I will go to my room;
but you cannot remain alone this dreadful night. Shall I call Gillonne?"

"No, no! leave me, Francois--leave me. Go by the way you came!"

The young prince obeyed; and hardly had he disappeared when Marguerite,
hearing a sigh from behind her bed, hurriedly bolted the door of the
secret passage, and then hastening to the other entrance closed it in
the same way, just as a troop of archers and soldiers like a hurricane
dashed by in hot cha