“Blood!” cried Ribeirac.
“The door has been forced,” said Antragues; and seizing the ladder, he was on the balcony in a moment.
“What is it?” cried the others, seeing him turn pale.
A terrible cry was his only answer. Livarot mounted behind him. “Corpses! death everywhere!” cried he. And they both entered the room. It bore horrible traces of the terrible combat of the previous night. A river of blood flowed over the room; and the curtains were hanging in strips from sword cuts.
“Oh! poor Rémy!” cried Antragues, suddenly.
“Dead!”
“Yes.”
“But a regiment of troopers must have passed through the room,” cried Livarot. Then, seeing the door of the corridor open, and traces of blood indicating that one or more of the combatants had also passed through there, he followed it. Meanwhile, Antragues went into the adjoining room; there also blood was everywhere, and this blood led to the window. He leaned out and looked into the little garden. The iron spikes still held the livid corpse of the unhappy Bussy. At this sight, it was not a cry, but a yell, that Antragues uttered. Livarot ran to see what it was, and Ribeirac followed.
“Look!” said Antragues, “Bussy dead! Bussy assassinated and thrown out of window.”
They ran down.