"He is dying, Amory, he is dying!" she cried.
A stern Franciscan friar, who had been telling his beads within a few paces of them, heard the cry and was beside them in an instant.
"He is indeed dying," he said, as he gazed down at the ashen face. "Has the old man had the sacraments of the Church?"
"I do not think that he needs them," answered De Catinat evasively.
"Which of us do not need them, young man!" said the friar sternly. "And how can a man hope for salvation without them? I shall myself administer them without delay."
But the old Huguenot had opened his eyes, and with a last flicker of strength he pushed away the gray-hooded figure which bent over him.
"I left all that I love rather than yield to you," he cried, "and think you that you can overcome me now?"
The Franciscan started back at the words, and his hard suspicious eyes shot from De Catinat to the weeping girl.
"So!" said he. "You are Huguenots, then!"
"Hush! Do not wrangle before a man who is dying!" cried De Catinat in a voice as fierce as his own.