the king, rising in great haste, and with a face which
betrayed his emotion. "Silence, gentlemen! silence! And you, my cousin,
not another word, I command you! Who poured out the wine?"

"A villain called Berthaud," Crillon answered promptly and fiercely,
"who was in attendance upon the Duke of Guise."

"He was not in attendance on me!" the duke answered, with spirit.

"Then on Madame de Sauves."

"I know nothing of him!" cried that lady, hysterically. "I never spoke
to the man in my life. I do not know him!"

"Enough!" the king said with decision; but the gloom on his brow grew
darker. "Enough. Until Berthaud is found, let no more be said. Cousin,"
he continued to the Count of Soissons, "you will see us home. D'Ornano,
we return at once, and you will accompany us. For M. de Crillon, we
commit to him the care of this young man, to whom we appear to be
indebted, and whose thought for us we shall not forget. Madame, I kiss
your hand."

Guise's salutation he acknowledged only by a grave bow. The last of the
Valois could at times exert himself, could at times play again the hero
of Jarnac and Montcontour, could even assume a dignity no whit less
than that of Guise. As he retired all bowed low to him, and the greater
part of the assemblage--even those who had not attended him to the
house--left in his train. In three minutes Crillon, a couple of inferior
officers, and a handful of guards alone remained round the young man.

"He will recover," Crillon said, speaking to the officer next him. "He
is young, and they did not dare to make the dose too strong. We shall
not, however, convict any one now, unless Berthaud speaks."

"Berthaud is dead."

"What?"

"As dead as Clovis," the lieutenant repeated calmly. "He is lying in the
passage, M. de Crillon."

"Who killed him?" cried Crillon, leaping up in a rage. "Who dared to
kill him? Not those fools of guards when they knew it was his evidence
we wanted."

"No, no," said the other coolly. "They found him dead not twenty paces
from the house. He was a doomed man when he passed through the door. You
understand, M. de Crillon? He knew too much to live."

"_Mort de Dieu!_" cried Crillon, raising his hands in admiration. "How
clever they are! Not a thing forgotten! Well, I will to the king and
tell him. It will put him on his guard. If I had not contrived to try
the draught there and then, I could not have convinced him; and if I had
not by a lucky hazard won this young m