fallen, sprang forward, swinging his musket up above his head. I dodged
the murderous downward stroke, and as the stock buried itself close
beside me in the soft earth I rose on one knee and with a grim laugh I
raised my pistol. I brought the muzzle within a hand's breadth of his
face, then fired and shot him through the head. Perchance you'll say it
was a murderous, cruel stroke: mayhap it was, but at such seasons
men stay not to unravel niceties, but strike ere they themselves be
stricken.

Leaping over the twitching corpse, I got out my sword and sprang after
St. Auban, who, with Vilmorin and Yvonne, careless of what might betide
his followers, was now within ten paces of the boat.

Pistol shots cracked behind me, and I wondered how Michelot was faring,
but dared not pause to look.

The twain in the boat stood up, wielding their great oars, and methought
them on the point of coming to their master's aid, in which case my
battle had truly been a lost one. But that craven Vilmorin did me good
service then, for with a cry of fear at my approach, he abandoned his
hold of Yvonne, whose struggles were keeping both the men back; thus
freed, he fled towards the boat, and jumping in, he shouted to the men
in his shrill, quavering voice, to put off. Albeit they disobeyed him
contemptuously and waited for the Marquis; still they did not leave the
boat, fearing, no doubt, that if they did so the coward would put off
alone.

As for St. Auban, Vilmorin's flight left him unequal to the task of
dragging the girl along. She dug her heels into the ground, and, tug as
he might, for all that he set both hands to work, he could not move her.
In this plight I came upon him, and challenged him to stand and face me.

With a bunch of oaths he got out his sword, but in doing so he was
forced to remove one of his hands from the girl's arm. Seizing the
opportunity with a ready wit and courage seldom found in women of her
quality, she twisted herself from the grip of his left hand, and came
staggering towards me for protection, holding up her pinioned wrists.
With my blade I severed the cord, whereupon she plucked the gag from
her mouth, and sank against my side, her struggles having left her weak
indeed.

As I set my arm about her waist to support her, my heart seemed to swell
within me, and strange melodies shaped themselves within my soul.

St. Auban bore down upon me with a raucous oath, but the glittering
point of my rapier danced