All at once the marquise rose with a great cry and clasped her hand to her right side.  While she was speaking, and before she perceived what he was doing, the chevalier had drawn his sword, which was very short, and using it as a dagger, had struck her in the breast; this first blow was followed by a second, which came in contact with the shoulder blade, and so was prevented from going farther.  At these two blows the marquise rushed towards the door, of the room into which the ladies had retired, crying, “Help!  He is killing me!”

But during the time that she took to cross the room the chevalier stabbed her five times in the back with his sword, and would no doubt have done more, if at the last blow his sword had not broken; indeed, he had struck with such force that the fragment remained embedded in her shoulder, and the marquise fell forward on the floor, in a pool of her blood, which was flowing all round her and spreading through the room.

The chevalier thought he had killed her, and hearing the women running to her assistance, he rushed from the room.  The abbe was still at the door, pistol in hand; the chevalier took him by the arm to drag him away, and as the abbe hesitated to follow, he said:—­

“Let us go, abbe; the business is done.”

The chevalier and the abbe had taken a few steps in the street when a window opened and the women who had found the marquise expiring called out for help:  at these cries the abbe stopped short, and holding back the chevalier by the arm, demanded—­

“What was it you said, chevalier?  If they are calling help, is she not dead, after all?”

“‘Ma foi’, go and see for yourself,” returned the chevalier.  “I have done enough for my share; it is your turn now.”

“‘Pardieu’, that is quite my opinion,” cried the abbe; and rushing back to the house, he flung himself into the room at the moment when the women, lifting the marquise with great difficulty, for she was so weak that she could no longer help herself, were attempting to carry her to bed.  The abbe pushed them away, and arriving at the marquise, put his pistol to her heart; but Madame Brunel, the same who had previously given the marquise a box of orvietan, lifted up the barrel with her hand, so that the shot went off into the air, and the bullet instead of striking the marquise lodged in the cornice of the ceiling.  The abbe then took the pistol by the barrel and gave Madame Brunet so violent a blow upon the head with the butt that she staggered and almost fell; he was about to strike her again, but all the women uniting against him, pushed him, with thousands of maledictions, out of the room, and locked the door behind him.  The two assassins, taking advantage of the darkness, fled from Ganges, and reached Aubenas, which is a full league away, about ten in the evening.