“Drowned!” he said aloud, and sheathed his sword.
From the window overhead a voice hailed him. He looked up and saw the Dowager, and, behind her, the figure of her son. Away in the meadows the lights of his men’s torches darted hither and thither like playful jack-o’-lanterns.
“Have you got him, Fortunio?”
“Yes, madame,” he answered with assurance. “You may have his body when you will. He is underneath here.” And he pointed to the water.
They appeared to take his word for it, for they questioned him no further. The Marquise turned to mademoiselle, who was still sitting on the floor.
“He is drowned, Valerie,” she said slowly, watching the girl’s face.
Valerie looked up. Her eyes were very wide, and her lips moved for a second. Then she fell forward without a word. This last horror, treading on the heels of all those that already had assailed her, proved too great a strain for her brave spirit. She had swooned.
Tressan entered at that moment, full of questions as to what might be toward, for he had understood nothing in the courtyard. The Marquise called to him to help her with the girl, Marius being still too faint, and between them they bore her to her chamber, laid her on the bed, and, withdrawing, closed the door upon her. Then she signed to Marius and the Seneschal.
“Come,” she said; “let us go. The sight and smell of the place are turning me sick, although my stomach is strong enough to endure most horrors.”
She took up one of the candle-branches to light them, and they went below and made their way to the hall, where they found Marius’s page, Gaston, looking very pale and scared at the din that had filled the chateau during the past half-hour or so. With him was Marius’s hound, which the poor boy had kept by him for company and protection in that dreadful time.