re!" he managed to say. "In the next
room--not here!"

"As your highness wishes." Marc'antonio let him pass into the
workshop and he stood before the brazier, stretching out his palms as
though to warm them.

"These!" he whispered hoarsely, pointing to the instruments on the
brazier.

"Your Highness misunderstands. We are not torturers, we of the
Colonne," answered Marc'antonio, gravely.

A clock on the mantelpiece tinkled out the hour of nine.

"No, nor shall be murderers," I interposed. "The Princess is yet
your mistress, O Marc'antonio, and I am her husband. In the
Princess's name I command you both that you do not harm him."

To my amazement the wretched youth drew himself up, his cowardice
gone, his face twisted with sudden venomous passion.

"_You? You_ will protect me? Dog, I can die, but not owe _that!_"

I leapt forward, disregarding him, seeing that Marc'antonio's hand
was lifted, and that in it a dagger glittered. But before I could
leap the Prince had snatched one of the steel rods from the brazier--
a charcoal rake. And as I struck up Marc'antonio's arm, the rake
crashed down on my skull, tearing the scalp with its white-hot teeth.

I staggered back with both hands held to my head. I did not see the
stroke itself; but between my spread fingers I saw the Prince sink to
the floor with the handle of Marc'antonio's dagger between his
shoulder-blades. I saw the blood gush from his mouth. And with that
I heard scream after scream from the doorway where Bianca stood
swaying, and shouts from the garden answering her screams.

"Foolish girl!" said Marc'antonio, quietly. "And yet, perhaps, so
best!"

He stepped over the Prince's body, and taking me by both shoulders,
hurried me through the room where the priest hung, and forth into the
vestibule. Stephanu did the same with Bianca, halting on his way to
catch up the crown and wrap it carefully in the girl's cloak. At the
garden gate he thrust the bundle into my hands, even as Marc'antonio
pushed us both into the lane.

Outside the door I caught at the wall and drew breath, blinking while
the hot blood ran over my eyes. I looked for them to follow and help
me, for I needed help. But the door was closed softly behind us, and
a moment later I heard their footsteps as they ran back along the
vestibule, back towards the shouting voices; then, after a long
silence, a shot; then a loud cry, "CORSICA!" and another shot.

"They have killed h