"Very good! marvellously well done!" ejaculated the cardinal. "Look, Sire, see them leaping from the window! Two, three, four,—more, more! Do you hear their shrieks?"
"Oh, God! the poor wretches!" cried Mary Stuart, clasping her hands.
"It seems to me," observed the king, "that I can distinguish at the head of our troops the plume and scarf of our cousin De Condé. Is it really he, Captain?"
"Yes, your Majesty," replied Richelieu. "He has been among us all the time, sword in hand, fighting beside Monsieur de Guise."
"Well, Monsieur le Cardinal," said François, "you see that he did not wait to be asked."
"He could not have afforded to, Sire!" replied Charles de Lorraine. "Monsieur le Prince would have risked too much if he had acted otherwise than he has."
"Oh, see!" cried Mary, repelled and fascinated at once by the horrible spectacle without; "the flames are much more intense! the house will fall in upon the poor wretches!"
"It has fallen!" said the king.
"Thank God, it is all over!" cried the cardinal.
"Ah, let us leave the place, Sire; it makes me ill," said Mary, drawing the king away from the window.