white with terror he seized my brother's stirrup and begged for
mercy. I saw the cruel hand go up; there was a flash of steel, and
Ferrieres fell, his grey hairs dabbled in blood, and the white horse
trampled over him as Simon turned towards us. The light of fifty
torches was on us, and he knew us at once. With a cry like that of an
animal he pointed at us.

"There! Those two. A hundred--nay, two hundred gold crowns to him who
takes them. On! on!"

And he strove to reach us; but even he, mounted as he was, found the
press too great.

But his words were heard, and they came on howling, a ring of snarling
faces, of hearts more pitiless than wolves'. Twice they rushed in and
twice they fell back, and my sword was red to the hilt. They wavered
for a moment, and then came on a third time. One man went down, but
someone sprang to my sword arm and pulled me forward. I tripped over
something, and came to my knees, and as I did so the mob went over me
like a wave, and I heard Diane's voice and its shrill note of agony.
God knows how I managed it, but I rose to my feet once more--the very
thickness of the press perhaps saved me then--but I could see nothing
of Diane.

"Diane," I called out, "I am here--here!"

And they laughed at me, and one raising a poniard made a sudden, swift
thrust, that would have found my heart, but that a shining blade came
between us, and the ruffian fell with a horrid cry. The next moment I
heard De Lorgnac's voice. He seemed to have dropped from the clouds.

"Behind me! Your back to the wall till you get breath." And his tall
figure faced the crowd; and then I saw what the best sword in France
could do, and even I shuddered. They backed before him in a crescent,
snarling, growling, and cursing, but never an one dared to come within
reach of that long red blade.

Where was Diane? Dizzy and faint I leaned against the wall behind me,
my eyes searching here, there, and everywhere. But she was gone; and I
cursed my arm that had failed me in my need.

Simon was still some distance away, striving to reach me, and our eyes
met. It was enough for me. I sprang at him, past De Lorgnac; and the
mob gave, only to wedge me in and bear me backwards, for at this moment
there rose a cry:

"The archers! The guards! Fly! Fly!"

Ay! They had come at last! When it was too late, with Martines, the
lieutenant of the Chatelet, at their head. They drove the mob before
them, striking them