are not alone!" she said, hearing the clash of arms outside.

"No, I have twelve guards which my brother-in-law, Monsieur de Guise,
assigned me."

"Monsieur de Guise!" murmured La Mole. "The assassin--the assassin!"

"Silence!" said Marguerite. "Not a word!"

And she looked round to see where she could conceal the wounded man.

"A sword! a dagger!" muttered La Mole.

"To defend yourself--useless! Did you not hear? There are twelve of
them, and you are alone."

"Not to defend myself, but that I may not fall alive into their hands."

"No, no!" said Marguerite. "No, I will save you. Ah! this cabinet! Come!
come."

La Mole made an effort, and, supported by Marguerite, dragged himself to
the cabinet. Marguerite locked the door upon him, and hid the key in her
alms-purse.

"Not a cry, not a groan, not a sigh," whispered she, through the
panelling, "and you are saved."

Then hastily throwing a night-robe over her shoulders, she opened the
door for her friend, who tenderly embraced her.

"Ah!" cried Madame Nevers, "then nothing has happened to you, madame!"

"No, nothing at all," replied Marguerite, wrapping the mantle still more
closely round her to conceal the spots of blood on her peignoir.

"'Tis well. However, as Monsieur de Guise has given me twelve of his
guards to escort me to his hotel, and as I do not need such a large
company, I am going to leave six with your majesty. Six of the duke's
guards are worth a regiment of the King's to-night."

Marguerite dared not refuse; she placed the soldiers in the corridor,
and embraced the duchess, who then returned to the Hotel de Guise, where
she resided in her husband's absence.

CHAPTER IX.

THE MURDERERS.

Coconnas had not fled, he had retreated; La Huriere had not fled, he had
flown. The one had disappeared like a tiger, the other like a wolf.

The consequence was that La Huriere had already reached the Place Saint
Germain l'Auxerrois when Coconnas was only just leaving the Louvre.

La Huriere, finding himself alone with his arquebuse, while around him
men were running, bullets were whistling, and bodies were falling from
windows,--some whole, others dismembered,--began to be afraid and was
prudently thinking of returning to his tavern, but as he turned into the
Rue de l'Arbre Sec from the Rue d'Averon he fell in with a troop of
Swiss and light cavalry: it was the one commanded by Maurevel.

"Well," cried Maurevel, who had christened himself w