"Ah! it is our Piedmontese," said Maurevel.
"Yes, it is Monsieur de Coconnas," said La Hurière; "I thought you were following me."
"Hang it! you made off too swiftly for that; and besides I turned a little to one side so as to fling into the river a frightful child who was screaming, 'Down with the Papists! Long live the admiral!' Unfortunately, I believe the little rascal knew how to swim. These miserable heretics must be flung into the water like cats before their eyes are opened if they are to be drowned at all."
"Ah! you say you are just from the Louvre; so your Huguenot took refuge there, did he?" asked Maurevel.
"Mon Dieu! yes."
"I gave him a pistol-shot at the moment when he was picking up his sword in the admiral's court-yard, but I somehow or other missed him."
"Well, I did not miss him," added Coconnas; "I gave him such a thrust in the back that my sword was wet five inches up the blade. Besides, I saw him fall into the arms of Madame Marguerite, a pretty woman, by Heaven! yet I confess I should not be sorry to hear he was really dead; the vagabond is infernally spiteful, and capable of bearing me a grudge all his life. But didn't you say you were bound somewhere?"
"Why, do you mean to go with me?"
"I do not like standing still, by Heaven! I have killed only three or four as yet, and when I get cold my shoulder pains me. Forward! forward!"
"Captain," said Maurevel to the commander of the troop, "give me three men, and go and despatch your parson with the rest."