ruhl--a very favourite
pastime with him. And in this way he made out a call of two hours.

I had not long to wait for proof of Simon's wisdom in taking this
precaution. We thought it prudent to keep within doors after our guest's
departure, and so passed the night in ignorance whether anything had
happened or not. But about seven next morning one of the Marquis's
servants, despatched by M. d'Agen, burst in upon us with the news--which
was no news from the moment his hurried footstep sounded on the stairs
that Father Antoine had been set upon and killed the previous evening!

I heard this confirmation of my hopes with grave thankfulness; Simon
with so much emotion that when the messenger was gone he sat down on a
stool and began to sob and tremble as if he had lost his mother, instead
of a mortal foe. I took advantage of the occasion to read him a sermon
on the end of crooked courses; nor could I myself recall without a
shudder the man's last words to me; or the lawless and evil designs in
which he had rejoiced, while standing on the very brink of the pit which
was to swallow up both him and them in everlasting darkness.

Naturally, the uppermost feeling in my mind was relief. I was free once
more. In all probability the priest had kept his knowledge to himself,
and without him his agents would be powerless. Simon, it is true, heard
that the town was much excited by the event; and that many attributed
it to the Huguenots. But we did not suffer ourselves to be depressed
by this, nor had I any foreboding until the sound of a second hurried
footstep mounting the stairs reached our ears.

I knew the step in a moment for M. d'Agen's, and something ominous in
its ring brought me to my feet before he opened the door. Significant as
was his first hasty look round the room, he recovered at sight of me
all his habitual SANG-FROID. He saluted me, and spoke coolly, though
rapidly. But he panted, and I noticed in a moment that he had lost his
lisp.

'I am happy in finding you,' he said, closing the door carefully behind
him, 'for I am the bearer of ill news, and there is not a moment to
be lost. The king has signed an order for your instant consignment to
prison, M. de Marsac, and, once there, it is difficult to say what may
not happen.'

'My consignment?' I exclaimed. I may be pardoned if the news for a
moment found me unprepared.

'Yes,' he replied quickly. 'The king has signed it at the instance of
Marshal Retz.'

'But f