men had risen to their feet about the
Duke of Guise, who continued to sit with folded arms, content to smile.
He was aware that at the worst here in Paris he was safe; perhaps he was
innocent of harm or intent.

The main effect, however, of Crillon's last words was to draw many eyes,
and amongst them the king's, to the prisoner's face. Bazan was leaning
against the wall, the cup still in his grasp. As they turned with a
single movement towards him, his face began to grow a shade paler, a
spasm moved his lips, and after the interval of a moment the cup fell
from his hand to the ground. Thrusting himself with a convulsive
movement from the wall, he put out his hands and groped with them as if
he could no longer see; until, one of them meeting the pike of the
nearest guard, he tried to support himself by this. At the same time he
muttered hoarsely, "M. de Crillon, you saw it! We are--we are quits!"

He would have fallen on that, but the men caught him in their arms and
held him up, amid a murmur of horror; to many brave men death in this
special form is appalling. Here and there a woman shrieked; one fainted.
Meanwhile, the young man's face was becoming livid; his neck seemed to
stiffen, his eyes to protrude. The king looked at him and shuddered.
"Saint Denis!" he muttered, the perspiration standing on his brow, "what
an escape! What an escape! Can nothing be done for him?"

"I will try, Sire," Crillon answered, abandoning for the first time his
attitude of watchfulness. Drawing a small phial from his pocket, he
directed one of the guards to force open the lad's teeth, and then
himself poured the contents of the bottle between them.

"Good lad," he muttered to himself, "he has drained the cup. I bade him
drink only half. It would have been enough. But he is young and strong.
He may surmount it."

The rest looked on, some in curiosity, some in pity, some in secret
apprehension. It was the Duke of Guise who put into words the thoughts
of many. "Those," he said scornfully, "who find the antidote, may know
the poison, M. de Crillon."

"What do you mean, Duke?" Crillon replied passionately, as he sprang to
his feet. "That I was in this? That I know more than I have told of it?
If so, you lie, sir; and you know it!"

"I know it?" the Duke cried, his eyes aflame, his cheeks reddening.
Never had he heard such words. "Do you dare to insinuate--that I know
more of this plot than yourself--if plot there be?"

"Enough!" said