ise. The
Republican officers, uneasy in mind, questioned each other's thoughts
as they awaited the result of this extraordinary scene. In a moment the
forks remained inactive in every hand, silence reigned, and every eye
was turned to the Gars. A frightful anger showed upon his face, which
turned waxen in tone. He leaned towards the guest from whom the rocket
had started and said, in a voice that seemed muffled in crape, "Death of
my soul! count, is that true?"

"On my honor," said the count, bowing gravely.

The marquis lowered his eyes for a moment, then he raised them and
looked fixedly at Marie, who, watchful of his struggle, knew that look
to be her death-warrant.

"I would give my life," he said in a low voice, "for revenge on the
spot."

Madame du Gua understood the words from the mere movement of the young
man's lips, and she smiled upon him as we smile at a friend whose
regrets are about to cease. The scorn felt for Mademoiselle de Verneuil
and shown on every face, brought to its height the growing indignation
of the two Republicans, who now rose hastily:--

"Do you want anything, citizens?" asked Madame du Gua.

"Our swords, _citoyenne_," said Gerard, sarcastically.

"You do not need them at table," said the marquis, coldly.

"No, but we are going to play at a game you know very well," replied
Gerard. "This is La Pelerine over again."

The whole party seemed dumfounded. Just then a volley, fired with
terrible regularity, echoed through the courtyard. The two officers
sprang to the portico; there they beheld a hundred or so of Chouans
aiming at the few soldiers who were not shot down at the first
discharge; these they fired upon as upon so many hares. The Bretons
swarmed from the bank, where Marche-a-Terre had posted them at the peril
of their lives; for after the last volley, and mingling with the cries
of the dying, several Chouans were heard to fall into the lake, where
they were lost like stones in a gulf. Pille-Miche took aim at Gerard;
Marche-a-Terre held Merle at his mercy.

"Captain," said the marquis to Merle, repeating to the Republican his
own words, "you see that men are like medlars, they ripen on the straw."
He pointed with a wave of his hand to the entire escort of the Blues
lying on the bloody litter where the Chouans were despatching those who
still breathed, and rifling the dead bodies with incredible rapidity. "I
was right when I told you that your soldiers will not get as far as