riumph. "The dead speaks! There was
nothing written on that paper. His name was not there, but his own deed
has set it there."

The eyes of all were fixed upon the face of Gonzague, and the face of
Gonzague was an ugly sight to see. Hatred and despair struggled there for
mastery--hatred and despair, and the hideous sense of hopeless,
ignominious, public failure after a lifetime of triumphant crime.

"Louis!" cried the king again. "Louis! Assassin!"

In a moment Gonzague's sword was unsheathed, and he leaped across the
space that divided him from Lagardere, striking furiously for Lagardere's
heart. But Lagardere was ready for him, and, with a familiar trick of the
fencing-schools, wrenched Gonzague's weapon from his fingers and flung it
to the floor. A dozen hands seized Gonzague--the hands of those that once
had been proud to call themselves his friends.

Lagardere turned to the king, appealingly: "Monseigneur, I cry a favor.
Let me support this quarrel with my sword, and God defend the right."

The king was silent for a few seconds, trying to set himself right with a
world that had suddenly changed for him. Surely, it would be better to
let it end so, whatever came of it. He turned to Lagardere, and bowed his
head in silent approval: "As you will."

Suddenly, then, the Princess de Gonzague, clinging to the child in her
arms, cried out, calling to Chavernay: "Monsieur de Chavernay, in yonder
alcove lies the sword of my dead husband. Fetch it, and give it to
Monsieur de Lagardere."

In a frightful silence Chavernay crossed the room, entered the alcove,
and came forth holding the sword of Louis de Nevers in his hand--the
sword that Louis de Nevers had used so valiantly on the night of Caylus.
Silently he offered it to Lagardere, and silently Lagardere, giving the
weapon he held to Cocardasse, took the sword of Nevers from the hands of
Chavernay. Thereafter Lagardere stooped and picked up the fallen sword of
Gonzague. Then, advancing towards his enemy, he made a sign to those that
held him to release their captive--a sign that was immediately obeyed. He
held out the weapon by its blade to Gonzague, who caught it. In another
moment the two men were engaged in combat.

On the walls the impassive portraits of the Three Louis looked on while
one of the Three Louis fought for his shameful life, while another of the
Three Louis sat in heart-broken judgment upon him, and while the widow of
another of the Three Louis sat c