cle Laurence. He had been mortally
wounded at the siege of Roche-Mauprat, and had come to die under our
eyes. With him was his brother Leonard, who had just fired his last
pistol shot at random, luckily without hitting any one. Patience's
first impulse was to prepare to defend himself. On recognising Marcasse,
however, the fugitives, far from showing themselves hostile, asked for
shelter and help. As their situation was so desperate no one thought
that assistance should be refused. The police were pursuing them.
Roche-Mauprat was in flames; Louis and Peter had died fighting; Antony,
John, and Walter had fled in another direction, and, perhaps, were
already prisoners. No words would paint the horror of Laurence's last
moments. His agony was brief but terrible. His blasphemy made the cure
turn pale. Scarce had the door been shut and the dying man laid on the
floor than the horrible death-rattle was heard. Leonard, who knew of no
remedy but brandy, snatched Marcasse's flask out of my hand (not without
swearing and scornfully reproaching me for my flight), forced open his
brother's clinched teeth with the blade of his hunting-knife, and,
in spite of our warning, poured half the flask down his throat. The
wretched man bounded into the air, brandished his arms in desperate
convulsions, drew himself up to his full height, and fell back stone
dead upon the blood-stained floor. There was no time to offer up a
prayer over the body, for the door resounded under the furious blows of
our assailants.

"Open in the King's name!" cried several voices; "open to the police!"

"Help! help!" cried Leonard, seizing his knife and rushing towards the
door. "Peasants, prove yourselves nobles! And you, Bernard, atone for
your fault; wash out your shame; do not let a Mauprat fall into the
hands of the gendarmes alive!"

Urged on by native courage and by pride, I was about to follow his
example, when Patience rushed at him, and exerting his herculean
strength, threw him to the ground. Putting one knee on his chest, he
called to Marcasse to open the door. This was done before I could take
my uncle's part against his terrible assailant. Six gendarmes at once
rushed into the tower and, with their guns pointed, bade us move at our
peril.

"Stay, gentlemen," said Patience, "don't harm any one. This is your
prisoner. Had I been alone with him, I should either have defended him
or helped him to escape; but there are honest people here who ought not