an angel stand in the sun,
crying to all souls that did fly through the midst of heaven, 'Come,
gather yourselves to the Supper of the Great God.' But when, thinking
myself called, I would have drawn nearer, lo! between me and the table
spread, on which was the wine ready poured out, I saw the Beast, the
kings of the earth, and their warriors gathered together to make war
against the Lamb. And I heard a voice that said, 'Nay, but first thou
must pass through the portal of death ere it be given thee to eat of
the marriage supper of the Lamb.' So to me it spake. The message was not
for you--ye heard not the Voice. I will stay, for I am weary, and am
minded to fall on sleep--to find rest after many years."

And to this Pare, the wise and skilled surgeon, who was ever beloved by
Admiral Coligny, likewise adhered, saying, "I have not heard the voice
of the angel. But I hear well enough that of false Cosseins who is sent
by the King to murder us. I have looked from the window, and though I
saw no vision of Beast, I saw clearly my Lord Duke of Guise stand
without calling to them to slay and make an end! So I also will remain
for the love I bear to my lord, and because it is my duty as a good
physician so to do."

And the lad John Stirling, the Scot from Geneva, the pupil of Calvin,
ventured no word, being young. But, though the others would have carried
him with them, he shook them off, and abode where he was. For his
vision, and the purpose of it, were yet to be.

And so it came to pass that this young man from Geneva saw the killing
of the great Admiral, and heard the words in which he forgave his
assassins, telling them how that he was ready to die, and that at the
most they had but shortened his life by some short count of days or
hours!

And ever through the brief turmoil of the killing, the voice of the Duke
of Guise mounted impatiently up the stairway asking if the Admiral were
not yet dead, and hounding on his dogs to make an end of that noble
quarry.

And even when they assured him he would not believe, but desired to look
on the face of his own and his father's enemy.

"Open the window and throw him down!" he cried.

So they cast him out. But the aged prince, with the life still in his
body, clutched by instinct at the sill of the window as he fell. The
young Duke, first ordering up a couple of flambeaux, deliberately wiped
the blood from the face of his enemy with his kerchief, and cried out,
"It is even he