bing a dying man to be any
argument at all in that fierce camp; but even there the name of Pere
Colombeau met with respect. The saintly priest had protected too many
enemies for any one who had heard of him to wish him ill.

Nearly all night was Berenger thus forced to remain on guard, that the
sole hope of Narcisse's repentance and salvation might not be swept away
by violence from without, renewing bitterness within. Not till towards
morning was he called back. The hard, lingering death struggle had spent
itself, and slow convulsive gasps showed that life was nearly gone; but
the satanic sneer had passed away, and a hand held out, a breathing like
the word 'pardon' seemed to be half uttered, and was answered from the
bottom of Berenger's kind and pitying heart. Another quarter of an hour,
and Narcisse de Ribaumont Nid de Merle was dead. The priest looked pale,
exhausted, shocked, but would reveal nothing of the frame of mind he had
shown, only that if he had been touched by any saving penitence, it was
owing to his kinsman.

Berenger wished to send the corpse to rest in the family vault at
Bellaise, where the Chevalier had so lately been laid; and the priest
undertook to send persons with a flag of truce to provide for the
transport, as well as to announce the death to the sister and the aunt.
Wearied as he was, he would not accept Berenger's earnest invitation to
come and take rest and refreshment in the prior's rooms, but took
leave of him at the further side of the fortress, with almost reverent
blessings, as to one not far from the kingdom of heaven; and Berenger,
with infinite peacefulness in his heart, went home in the silence of the
Sunday morning, and lay sleeping away his long fatigue through the chief
part of the day, while Pastor Merlin was preaching and eloquent sermon
upon his good brother Isaac Gardon, and Eustacie shed filial tears, more
of tenderness than sorrow.

CHAPTER XLIV. THE GALIMAFRE

Speats and raxes, speats and raxes, speat and raxes
Lord Somerville's billet

Never wont to let the grass grow under his feet, Henry of Navarre was
impatient of awaiting his troops at Pont de Dronne, and proposed
to hasten on to Quinet, as a convenient centre for collecting the
neighbouring gentry for conference. Thus, early on Monday, a party of
about thirty set forth on horseback, including the Ribaumonts, Rayonette
being perched by turns in front of her father or mother