to the conversation that
was going on, if they understood it, which was unlikely. Lemoine had
the bayonet in his hands before either of the four men present knew
what he was doing.

Grasping both hands over the butt of the bayonet, with the point
towards his breast, he thrust the blade with desperate energy nearly
through his body. The whole action was done so quickly that no one
realised what had happened until Lemoine threw his hands up and they
saw the bayonet sticking in his breast. A look of agony came in the
wounded man's eyes, and his lips whitened. He staggered against the
soldier at his right, who gave way with the impact, and then he
tottered against the whitewashed stone wall, his right arm sweeping
automatically up and down the wall as if he were brushing something
from the stones. A groan escaped him, and he dropped on one knee. His
eyes turned helplessly towards Dupre, and he gasped out the words--

"My God! You were right--after all."

Then he fell forward on his face and the tragedy ended.

[Illustration: "MY GOD, YOU WERE RIGHT AFTER ALL!"]

TWO FLORENTINE BALCONIES.

Prince Padema sat desolately on his lofty balcony at Florence, and
cursed things generally. Fate had indeed dealt hardly with the young
man.

The Prince had been misled by the apparent reasonableness of the adage,
that if you want a thing well done you should do it yourself. In
committing a murder it is always advisable to have some one else to do
it for you, but the Prince's plans had been several times interfered
with by the cowardice or inefficiency of his emissaries, so on one
unfortunate occasion he had determined to remove an objectionable man
with his own hand, and realised then how easily mistakes may occur.

He had met the man face to face under a corner lamp in Venice. The
recognition was mutual, and the man, fearing his noble enemy, had fled.
The Prince pursued, and the man apparently tried to double upon him,
and, with his cloak over his face, endeavoured to sneak past along the
dark wall. When the Prince deftly ran the dagger into his vitals, he
was surprised that the man made no resistance or outcry, made no effort
to ward off the blow, but sunk lifeless at the Prince's feet with a
groan.

Alarmed at this, the Prince bade his servant drag the body to a spot
where a votive lamp set in the wall threw dim yellow rays to the
pavement. Then his Highness was appalled to see that he had
assassinated a scion of on