A young man appeared. Magdalena rushed toward him, without a word. The youth bowed his head.
"Yes, he is dead. Monsieur de Talizac has been killed in a duel!"
Magdalena sank upon the floor, unconscious. Fongereues laughed hysterically.
"Nonsense! My son has fought no duel," he said.
"Yes—with Arthur de Montferrand, whose sword pierced his heart!"
Fongereues tore the cloth from the bier. Yes, it was the Vicomte de Talizac. The wretched father tried to speak. Every muscle in his face quivered. The servants fell back, shocked by all this agony.
"Tell me all!" he said at last.
"There is little to tell, sir, beyond the bare fact. I have, however, a letter which the Vicomte gave me before he went on the ground."
Magdalena snatched this letter and tore it open. It contained but one line: