“I am very sorry for what has occurred,” he said. “I have killed many in battle, but this is the first time that I have killed anyone in a private quarrel. It was not one of my seeking, but I am none the less sorry.”
As he passed near Madame de Chevreuse, she made a gesture to him to come to her. “You did not accept my warning,” she said sadly. “Remember, a storm is not past because the first flash of lightning does not strike.”
“I am well aware of that, madam; I thank you for your warning, but I am bound here by my duties as a tree is bound to the earth by its roots, and neither can move at will to escape a storm passing overhead.”
“Should I hear of any fresh danger, Monsieur Campbell,” she said in a low voice, “I will have you informed of it, but it is more probable that I shall not know. Were it a state secret I should surely hear of it, but in a matter like this none save those concerned would be likely to know of it until it was over. Be always on your guard night and day, you cannot tell when the bolt may fall;” and she motioned to him to pass on again. As before, Hector accompanied the cardinal as far as his hotel, then he went towards his own lodgings, Paolo, with his hand on his dagger, keeping a pace behind him, while the four troopers followed one by one at a distance. The streets were almost deserted until, just as they approached the inn, a number of rough men rushed out from side alleys and doorways. Hector had just time to throw himself with his back to a house and draw his sword. Paolo's knife had levelled the first man who approached, and then drawing his sword he took his place by the side of his master. The ruffians stood round, each anxious to be the first to strike, and yet fearful of meeting the sword that had, as they had heard, mastered three gentlemen.
“Run in at him, fools!” a man in a cloak, with his hat pulled down over his eyes, and keeping in the rear of the others, shouted.
Before his orders could be carried out there was a sudden movement, and four men burst through them and joined Hector. The assailants hesitated.
But again the man behind shouted: “Cowards, there are but six of them, and you are five-and-twenty, are you such curs that you are afraid to attack when you are nigh five to one?”
Then, with a hoarse yell the crowd rushed forward. One was struck down by a heavy cudgel, three fell on the pavement, and another one tottered back disabled, but others took their places, and for a time the little band were hardly pressed. The four Scotchmen fought stoutly, but although fair swordsmen they gained no great advantage over their opponents until they betook them to their pistols, when several of their assailants fell, but not without inflicting wounds. Paolo also fought well, and brought three to the ground. Hector, however, took the offensive, and before his swift blade, with its deadly thrust, those opposed to him fell back as one after another dropped dead.
“Down with him! down with him!” the voice shouted; “are ye men thus to give way before a single blade?”
“And are you a man,” Hector shouted back, “to set on others to fight when you dare not fight yourself? Whoever you are, you are a coward!”