"Miserable wretches!" said the abbe, "you did not fight then?"
"Like lions."
"Say like cowards."
"Monsieur!"
"A hundred men accustomed to war, sword in hand, are worth ten thousand archers in a surprise. where is Menneville, that boaster, that braggart, who was to come back either dead or a conqueror."
"Well, monsieur, he has kept his word; he is dead!"
"Dead! Who killed him?"
"A demon disguised as a man, a giant armed with ten flaming swords — a madman, who at one blow extinguished the fire, extinguished the riot, and caused a hundred mus- keteers to rise up out of the pavement of the Place de Greve."
Fouquet raised his brow, streaming with sweat, mur- muring, "Oh! Lyodot and D'Eymeris! dead! dead! dead! and I dishonored."
The abbe turned round, and perceiving his brother de- spairing and livid, "Come, come," said he, "it is a blow of fate, monsieur; we must not lament thus. As it is not effected, it is because God "
"Be silent, abbe, be silent!" cried Fouquet, "your ex- cuses are blasphemies. Order that man up here, and let him relate the details of this horrible event."
"But, brother "
"Obey, monsieur!"
The abbe made a sign, and in half a minute the step of the man was heaped upon the stairs. At the same time Gourville appeared behind Fouquet, like the guardian angel of the surintendant, pressing one finger upon his lips to enjoin observation even amid the bursts of his grief. The minister resumed all the serenity that human strength could leave at the disposal of a heart half-broken with sorrow. Danecamp appeared. "Make your report," said Gourville.
"Monsieur," replied the messenger, "we received orders to carry off the prisoners, and to cry 'Vive Colbert!' while carrying them off."
"To burn them alive, was it not, abbe?" interrupted Gourville.
"Yes, yes, the order was given to Menneville. Menneville knew what was to be done, and Menneville is dead." This news appeared rather to reassure Gourville than to sadden him,
