of splintered stair-rails, and writhed and struggled upon the landing, staggering up, falling down, and all breathing together like the wind in a chimney.  So twisted and twined were they that it was hard to pick one from the other, save that the innermost was clad in black Flemish cloth, while the three who clung to him were soldiers of the king.  Yet so strong and vigorous was the man whom they tried to hold that as often as he could find his feet he dragged them after him from end to end of the passage, as a boar might pull the curs which had fastened on to his haunches.  An officer, who had rushed down at the heels of the brawlers, thrust his hands in to catch the civilian by the throat, but he whipped them back again with an oath as the man’s strong white teeth met in his left thumb.  Clapping the wound to his mouth, he flashed out his sword and was about to drive it through the body of his unarmed opponent, when De Catinat sprang forward and caught him by the wrist.

“You villain, Dalbert!” he cried.

The sudden appearance of one of the king’s own bodyguard had a magic effect upon the brawlers.  Dalbert sprang back, with his thumb still in his mouth, and his sword drooping, scowling darkly at the new-comer.  His long sallow face was distorted with anger, and his small black eyes blazed with passion and with the hell-fire light of unsatisfied vengeance.  His troopers had released their victim, and stood panting in a line, while the young man leaned against the wall, brushing the dust from his black coat, and looking from his rescuer to his antagonists.

“I had a little account to settle with you before, Dalbert,” said De Catinat, unsheathing his rapier.

“I am on the king’s errand,” snarled the other.

“No doubt.  On guard, sir!”

“I am here on duty, I tell you!”

“Very good.  Your sword, sir!”

“I have no quarrel with you.”

“No?” De Catinat stepped forward and struck him across the face with his open hand.  “It seems to me that you have one now,” said he.

“Hell and furies!” screamed the captain.  “To your arms, men! Hola, there, from above!  Cut down this fellow, and seize your prisoner! Hola!  In the king’s name!”

At his call a dozen more troopers came hurrying down the stairs, while the three upon the landing advanced upon their former antagonist.  He slipped by them, however, and caught out of the old merchant’s hand the thick oak stick which he carried.

“I am with you, sir,” said he, taking his place beside the guardsman.

“Call off your canaille, and fight me like a gentleman,” cried De Catinat.

“A gentleman!  Hark to the bourgeois Huguenot, whose family peddles cloth!”

“You coward!  I will write liar on you with my sword-point!”