if so,
our work is sure; listen!'

A distant discharge of shot confirmed this supposition for a moment,
but, in the next, the former sounds drawing nearer, the clashing of
swords, mingled with the voices of loud contention and with heavy
groans, were distinguished in the avenue leading to the chamber. While
the ruffians prepared their arms, they heard themselves called by some
of their comrades afar off, and then a shrill horn was sounded without
the fortress, a signal, it appeared, they too well understood; for three
of them, leaving the Lady Blanche to the care of the fourth, instantly
rushed from the chamber.

While Blanche, trembling, and nearly fainting, was supplicating for
release, she heard amid the tumult, that approached, the voice of St.
Foix, and she had scarcely renewed her shriek, when the door of the
room was thrown open, and he appeared, much disfigured with blood, and
pursued by several ruffians. Blanche neither saw, or heard any more; her
head swam, her sight failed, and she became senseless in the arms of the
robber, who had detained her.

When she recovered, she perceived, by the gloomy light, that trembled
round her, that she was in the same chamber, but neither the Count, St.
Foix, or any other person appeared, and she continued, for some time,
entirely still, and nearly in a state of stupefaction. But, the dreadful
images of the past returning, she endeavoured to raise herself, that
she might seek her friends, when a sullen groan, at a little distance,
reminded her of St. Foix, and of the condition, in which she had seen
him enter this room; then, starting from the floor, by a sudden effort
of horror, she advanced to the place whence the sound had proceeded,
where a body was lying stretched upon the pavement, and where, by the
glimmering light of a lamp, she discovered the pale and disfigured
countenance of St. Foix. Her horrors, at that moment, may be easily
imagined. He was speechless; his eyes were half closed, and, on the
hand, which she grasped in the agony of despair, cold damps had settled.
While she vainly repeated his name, and called for assistance, steps
approached, and a person entered the chamber, who, she soon perceived,
was not the Count, her father; but, what was her astonishment, when,
supplicating him to give his assistance to St. Foix, she discovered
Ludovico! He scarcely paused to recognise her, but immediately bound
up the wounds of the Chevalier, and, perceiving, that he