steel, and Ursula de Vesc drew in her breath with a shiver as she saw
the red smear upon its flat. "Oh! Hugues, Hugues," she moaned, and
the Dauphin, catching at her hand with both his, shrank closer.

"Damnation!" cried La Mothe, striking fiercely at the blade as it
darted from side to side or sawed back and forth. But when he would
have struck a second time La Follette curtly forbade him.

"You may break your sword, and he can do no harm from where he is."

So they discovered for themselves, and the foremost crept yet a step
higher. But when he struck afresh La Follette, lunging aslant and
downwards, caught him below the wrist. With a curse he let the blade
fall clattering, and there was a pause. But if he were bolder, those
behind had not been idle. A voice from the background cried out to
clear the steps, and before those above understood the altered tactics
a picket, drawn from the palisade, was thrust between the bench and the
wall. It was La Follette who first grasped the danger.

"Blaise--Marcel!" he cried. "Here on the bench both of you and hold it
down."

But only one answered the call. Marcel was on his knees in the corner
praying for the miracle which should be his own handiwork, not the
first man nor the last who has called on God to bear the burden his own
shoulder refuses. Blaise was of better stuff. "Here I am, monsieur,"
he cried, but before he could bring his weight to bear a second picket,
sharpened at the point, was rammed up and forward with two men's
strength, driving the bench aslant till its end dipped and it fell with
a crash, scattering those below, but with little hurt. The way was
open, but Hugues' foresight had added five minutes to the four.

"For the Lord's sake," cried Blaise, staring into the welter below,
"give me something in my bare hand. Rats, he called us, rats, and I
won't die like a rat, I won't, I won't." It was the cry of primitive
nature and the Dauphin answered it.

"Here," said he, rising on his knees as he unbuckled his own small
sword. "You are stronger than I am. Be a man, Blaise."

"You'll see, Monseigneur, you'll see. Come up, you curs, come up.
Rats, you said? Come up and meet a man."

"Three men," said Mademoiselle. "Monsieur La Mothe, is there nothing I
can do?"

"Nothing, mademoiselle," he answered, and turning met her eyes with a
smile. He knew he was forgiven, and thanked Hugues in his heart that
he had lived so long. But for Hugue