ith the nickname of
King's Killer, "have you finished so soon? Are you going back to your
tavern, worthy landlord? And what the devil have you done with our
Piedmontese gentleman? No misfortune has happened to him? That would be
a shame, for he started out well."

"No, I think not," replied La Huriere; "I hope he will rejoin us!"

"Where have you been?"

"At the Louvre, and I must say we were very rudely treated there."

"By whom?"

"Monsieur le Duc d'Alencon. Isn't he interested in this affair?"

"Monseigneur le Duc d'Alencon is not interested in anything which does
not concern himself personally. Propose to treat his two older brothers
as Huguenots and he would be in it--provided only that the work should
be done without compromising him. But won't you go with these worthy
fellows, Maitre La Huriere?"

"And where are they going?"

"Oh, _mon Dieu_! Rue Montorguen; there is a Huguenot minister there whom
I know; he has a wife and six children. These heretics are enormous
breeders; it will be interesting."

"And where are you going?"

"Oh, I have a little private business."

"Say, there! don't go off without me," said a voice which made Maurevel
start, "you know all the good places and I want to have my share."

"Ah! it is our Piedmontese," said Maurevel.

"Yes, it is Monsieur de Coconnas," said La Huriere; "I thought you were
following me."

"Hang it! you made off too swiftly for that; and besides I turned a
little to one side so as to fling into the river a frightful child who
was screaming, 'Down with the Papists! Long live the admiral!'
Unfortunately, I believe the little rascal knew how to swim. These
miserable heretics must be flung into the water like cats before their
eyes are opened if they are to be drowned at all."

"Ah! you say you are just from the Louvre; so your Huguenot took refuge
there, did he?" asked Maurevel.

"_Mon Dieu!_ yes."

"I gave him a pistol-shot at the moment when he was picking up his
sword in the admiral's court-yard, but I somehow or other missed him."

"Well, I did not miss him," added Coconnas; "I gave him such a thrust in
the back that my sword was wet five inches up the blade. Besides, I saw
him fall into the arms of Madame Marguerite, a pretty woman, by Heaven!
yet I confess I should not be sorry to hear he was really dead; the
vagabond is infernally spiteful, and capable of bearing me a grudge all
his life. But didn't you say you were bound somewhere?"

"Why