Guise and Angouleme had not entered the house; they were standing in the courtyard, beneath the window of the Admiral’s room, awaiting the completion of the brutal work.  We heard the crashing of timber, the cries of the Switzers, and then the tramp of feet up the stairway.

Suddenly the sound ceased, and Felix, turning to me, whispered, “They have broken into his room!”

An awful silence fell upon us in the courtyard as we stood there waiting for the end of the ghastly tragedy.

CHAPTER XXVII

The Day of the Massacre

I always think of this incident in my life with a certain amount of shame; yet even now I cannot see in what I failed.  My comrade and I would have spent our lives freely in the Admiral’s defence, but what could we do?  To fight our way through that mob of soldiers was impossible; we could not have taken two steps without being killed.

And yet—­and yet—­perhaps it would have been the nobler part to have died with our chief!  I remember the look on Roger Braund’s face when he heard the story—­an expression that plainly asked, “How comes it then that you are still alive?”

If we did indeed act the coward’s part the blame must rest on my shoulders; but for me Felix would have flung himself at the troopers and died with the old battle-cry “For the Admiral!” on his lips.  It was I who, regarding such sacrifice as sheer folly, kept him back, though my blood boiled and my heart ached at what was going forward.

Presently a man wearing a corslet and waving a sword dyed red with blood appeared at the window of the sick-room.  “It is done, my lord!” cried he lustily, “it is all over.”

“Where is the body?” asked Guise brutally.  “Monseigneur d’Angouleme will not believe unless he sees the body.”

I was beside myself with grief and passion; yet even at that awful moment I gripped Felix tightly, bidding him control himself.  “We must live, and not die!” I whispered.

Behm, and Cosseins, and a trooper in the dark green and white uniform of Anjou’s guard approached the window, half dragging, half carrying a lifeless body.  Raising it up, they flung it, as if it were the carcase of a sheep, into the courtyard, Behm exclaiming, “There is your enemy; he can do little harm now!”

“Yes, it is he,” said Guise, spurning the dead hero with his foot, “I know him well.  We have made a good beginning, my men; let us finish the business.  Forward, in the king’s name!”

Our cry of agony was drowned by the shouting of the troopers, and the next moment we were swept with the rest of the crowd from the courtyard into the narrow street.  Suddenly, as if it were a signal, the great bell of St. Germain l’Auxerrois began to toll; other bells in the neighbourhood clanged and clashed, and mingling with their sounds were the fierce cries of “Kill the Huguenots!  Kill!  Kill!”