nd a careful scrutiny has been made."

"Aye!" echoed the friars. "Whence else did it come? Whence, my Lord
d'Hymbercourt, whence?"

I had noticed our Irish servant Michael standing near one of the friars.
At this point in the conversation the Irishman plucked me by the sleeve,
pointed to a friar, and whispered a word in my ear. Like a stone from a
catapult I sprang on the friar indicated, threw him to the ground, and
drew from under his black cassock an arquebuse.

"Here is the shaft from God!" I exclaimed, holding the arquebuse up to
view. Then I kneeled on the prostrate wretch and clutched his throat.
Anger gathered in my brain as lightning clusters about a mountain top. I
threw aside the arquebuse and proceeded to kill the canting mendicant. I
do not know that I killed him; I hope I did. I cannot speak with
certainty on that point, for I was quickly thrown away from him by the
avenging mob that rushed upon us and tore the fellow limb from limb. The
other friars were set upon by the populace that had witnessed the combat
from without the lists, and were beaten so unmercifully that one of them
died. Of the other's fate I know nothing, but I have my secret desires.

"Kill the Italians! Murder the assassins! Down with the mercenaries,"
cried the populace, who hated the duke's guard. The barriers were broken
down, and an interesting battle ensued. Surely the people got their full
satisfaction of blood and excitement that day. The Italians drew their
swords, but, being separated, they were at a disadvantage, though their
assailants carried only staves. I expected the duke to stop the fight,
but he withdrew to a little distance and watched it with evident
interest. My interest was more than evident; it was uproarious. I have
never spent so enjoyable a day. The fight raged after Max and I left,
and there was many a sore head and broken bone that night among the
Italian mercenaries of the Duke of Burgundy.

When Max and I returned to Peronne, we went to the noble church of St.
Jean and offered our humble gratitude. Max, having thrown off his anger,
proposed to buy a mass for the dead friar; but I was for leaving him in
purgatory where he belonged, and Max, as usual, took my advice.

On reaching the inn, Max cried loudly for supper. His calmness would
have done credit to a hardened warrior. There was at least one hardened
warrior that was not calm. I was wrought almost to a pitch of frenzy and
could not eat, though the su