"The guard! Here come the guard!" exclaimed several voices in alarm.
At these words, and at the sight of the murder of the Chourineur, all this dense crowd, fearing to be compromised in the assassination, dispersed as if by magic, and fled in every direction; the Skeleton, Nicholas, Martial, and Tortillard amongst the earliest.
When the guard came up, guided by the courier (who had escaped when the crowd had let him go to surround the prince's carriage), there only remained in this sad scene, Rodolph, his daughter, and the Chourineur, bathed in his blood. The two servants of the prince had seated him on the ground, with his back to a tree.
All this passed more quickly than it can be described, and at a few paces from the guinguette from which the Skeleton and his band had issued.
The prince, pale and agitated, held in his arms Fleur-de-Marie, half fainting, whilst the postilions were repairing the harness broken in the scuffle.
"Quick!" said the prince to his servants engaged in aiding the Chourineur, "convey this poor fellow to the cabaret; and you," he added, turning to the courier, "get on the box, and gallop back for Doctor David at the hôtel; you will find him there, as he does not leave until eleven o'clock."
The carriage went away at a great speed, and the two servants conveyed the Chourineur to the low apartment in which the orgies had taken place; several of the women were still there.
"My poor, dear child!" said Rodolph, to his daughter, "let me take you to some room in this place where you can await me, for I cannot abandon this brave fellow, who has again saved my life."
"Oh, my dearest father, I entreat you do not leave me!" exclaimed Fleur-de-Marie, with alarm, and seizing Rodolph's arm. "Do not leave me alone! I should die with fright! Where you go I will go!"
"But this frightful spectacle?"