“I have long,” said the heroic Christian admiral, “prepared myself to die. Save yourselves if you can: you cannot defend me. I commend my soul to God.”
The murderers were now rushing up the stairs. They pursued, shot, stabbed, and cut down the flying friends of Coligni. The admiral, thus for a moment left alone, rose from his bed, and, being unable to stand, leaned against the wall, and, in fervent prayer, surrendered himself to the will of his Maker. The assassins burst into the room. They saw a venerable man in his night-robe, with bandaged wounds, engaged in his devotions.
“Art thou the admiral?” demanded one with brandished sword.
“I am,” replied Coligni; “and thou, young man, shouldst respect my gray hairs. Nevertheless, thou canst abridge my life but a little.”
The wretch plunged his sword into the bosom of Coligni, and then, withdrawing it dripping with blood, cut him down. The admiral fell, calmly saying,—
“If I could but die by the hand of a gentleman, instead of by the hands of such a knave as this!”
The rest of the assassins immediately fell upon him, each emulous to bury his dagger in the bosom of his victim. The Duke of Guise, ashamed to encounter the eye of the noble Coligni, whom he had often met in friendly intercourse, remained impatiently in the courtyard below.
“Breme!” he shouted to one of his followers, looking up to the window, “have you done it?”
“Yes,” Breme replied: “he is done for.”
“Let us see, though,” replied the duke: “throw him out of the window!”