oul is
roused.

Near our end of the street a group of horsemen rising island-like from
the sea of heads, sat motionless in their saddles about a gateway.
They were silent, taking no notice of the rioting fiends shouting at
their girths, but watching in grim quiet what was passing within the
gates. They were handsomely dressed, although some wore corslets over
their satin coats or lace above buff jerkins. I could even at that
distance see the jewels gleam in the bonnet of one who seemed to be
their leader. He was in the centre of the band, a very young man,
perhaps twenty or twenty-one, of most splendid presence, sitting his
horse superbly. He wore a grey riding-coat, and was a head taller than
any of his companions. There was pride in the very air with which his
horse bore him.

I did not need to ask Pavannes who he was. I KNEW that he was the Duke
of Guise, and that the house before which he stood was Coligny's. I
knew what was being done there. And in the same moment I sickened with
horror and rage. I had a vision of grey hairs and blood and fury
scarcely human, And I rebelled. I battled with the rabble about me. I
forced my way through them tooth and nail after Pavannes, intent only
on escaping, only on getting away from there. And so we neither halted
nor looked back until we were clear of the crowd and had left the blaze
of light and the work doing by it some way behind us.

We found ourselves then in the mouth of an obscure alley which my
companion whispered would bring us to his house; and here we paused to
take breath and look back. The sky was red behind us, the air full of
the clash and din of the tocsin, and the flood of sounds which poured
from every tower and steeple. From the eastward came the rattle of
drums and random shots, and shrieks of "A BAS COLIGNY!" "A BAS LES
HUGUENOTS!" Meanwhile the city was rising as one man, pale at this
dread awakening. From every window men and women, frightened by the
uproar, were craning their necks, asking or answering questions or
hurriedly calling for and kindling tapers. But as yet the general
populace seemed to be taking no active part in the disorder.

Pavannes raised his hat an instant as we stood in the shadow of the
houses. "The noblest man in France is dead," he said, softly and
reverently. "God rest his soul! They have had their way with him and
killed him like a dog. He was an old man and they did not spare him!
A noble, and they hav