"The admiral!" cried Coconnas.
"Yes, the old Gaspard, whom I missed, like a fool, though I aimed at him with the King's arquebuse."
"And this, my gentleman, is why I was polishing my sallet, sharpening my sword, and putting an edge on my knives," said La Hurière, in a harsh voice consonant with war.
At these words Coconnas shuddered and turned very pale, for he began to understand.
"What, really," he exclaimed, "this festival—this banquet is a—you are going"—
"You have been a long time guessing, sir," said Maurevel, "and it is easy to see that you are not so weary of these insolent heretics as we are."
"And you take on yourself," he said, "to go to the admiral's and to"—
Maurevel smiled, and drawing Coconnas to the window he said:
"Look there!—do you see, in the small square at the end of the street, behind the church, a troop drawn up noiselessly in the shadow?"
"Yes."