crush you if you stir."

"Father, we are lost!" murmured Fleur-de-Marie.

"Take courage, love! I understand," replied the prince; "it is the last
day of the carnival,--these fellows are tipsy; I will get rid of them."

"I say, my 'covey,' come, get out, and your 'mot' with you!" cried
Nicholas; "why should you trample upon a parcel of poor people!"

"You seem to have drunk a good deal, and to desire to drink more," said
Rodolph; "here, take this, and do not delay my carriage any longer," and
he threw out his purse, which Tortillard caught.

"Oh, what, you are going to travel, eh? Well, then, you've got your
pockets well lined, no doubt. Come, shell out, my blade, or I'll have
your life." And he opened the door suddenly.

Rodolph's patience was exhausted. Alarmed for Fleur-de-Marie, whose
alarm increased every moment, and believing that a display of vigour
would daunt the wretch, whom he believed to be only drunk, he sprung
from the carriage, intending to seize the Skeleton by the throat. The
latter suddenly receded, and then, drawing a long knife-dirk from his
pocket, rushed at Rodolph. Fleur-de-Marie, seeing the dirk raised to
stab her father, gave a shriek, sprung from the carriage, and threw her
arms around him.

Her father's life must have been sacrificed but for the Chourineur, who
at the commencement of this tumult, having recognised the livery of the
prince, had contrived, by superhuman efforts, to reach the Skeleton; and
at the moment when that ruffian menaced the prince with his knife the
Chourineur seized on his arm with one hand, and, with the other grasping
his collar, threw him backwards.

Although surprised, and from behind too, the Skeleton turned around,
and, recognising the Chourineur, cried, "What! the man in the gray
blouse from La Force? This time, then, I'll do for you!" and rushing
furiously at the Chourineur, he plunged his knife in his breast. The
Chourineur staggered, but did not fall. The crowd kept him on his legs.

"The guard! Here come the guard!" exclaimed several voices in alarm.

At these words, and at the sight of the murder of the Chourineur, all
this dense crowd, fearing to be compromised in the assassination,
dispersed as if by magic, and fled in every direction; the Skeleton,
Nicholas, Martial, and Tortillard amongst the earliest.

When the guard came up, guided by the courier (who had escaped when the
crowd had let him go to surround the prince's carriage), there only
r