going now. Supper is about to be served, and if M. le Baron would let me
array him with this ruff of Spanish point, and wax the ends of his belle
moustache---'

'It is late,' added Eustacie, laying her hand on his arm; 'there may be
wild men about--he may be desperate! Oh, take care!'

'_Ma mie_, do you not think me capable of guarding myself from a wild
cat leap of a dying man? He must not be left thus. Remember he is a
Ribaumont.'

Vindictiveness and revenge had their part in the fire of Eustacie's
nature. Many a time had she longed to strangle Narcisse; and she was
on the point of saying, 'Think of his attempts on that little one's
life--think of your wounds and captivity;' but she had not spent three
years with Isaac Gardon without learning that there was sin in giving
way to her keen hatred; and she forced herself to silence, while
Berenger said, reading her face, 'Keep it back, sweet heart! Make it
not harder for me. I would as soon go near a dying serpent, but it were
barbarity to leave him as Osbert describes.'

Berenger was too supremely and triumphantly happy not to be full of
mercy; and as Osbert guided him to the hut where the miserable man lay,
he felt little but compassion. The scene was worse than he had expected;
for not only had the attendants fled, but plunderers had come in their
room, rent away the coverings from the bed, and torn the dying man from
it. Livid, nearly naked, covered with blood, his fingers hacked,
and ears torn for the sake of the jewels on them, lay the dainty and
effeminate tiger-fop of former days, moaning and scarcely sensible. But
when the mattress had been replaced, and Berenger had lifted him back to
it, laid a cloak over him, and moistened his lips, he opened his eyes,
but only to exclaim, 'You there! As if I had not enough to mock me!
Away!' and closed them sullenly.

'I would try to relieve you, cousin,' said Berenger.

The answer was a savage malediction on hypocrisy, and the words, 'And my
sister?'

'Your sister is in all honour and purity at the nunnery of Lucon.'

He laughed a horrible, incredulous laugh. 'Safely disposed of ere you
cajoled _la petite_ with the fable of your faithfulness! Nothing like
a Huguenot for lying to both sides;' and then ensued another burst
of imprecations on the delay that had prevented him from seizing the
fugitives--till he--till he felt as if the breath of hell were upon him,
and could not help vindicating himself, vain though he k