I led the way into the house and up the steps to the apartment. It was now lighted up by the torch which Jacques had brought. De Noyard was still lying in the position in which he had been when I left him. The servant stood beside him, looking down at his face, and holding the torch so as to light up the features.
"How do you feel now, monsieur?" I asked, hastening forward.
There was no answer. The servant raised his eyes to me, and said, in a tone of unnatural calmness, "Do you not see that he is dead, M. de la Tournoire?"
Horror-stricken, I knelt beside the body. The heart no longer beat; the face was still,—the eyes stared between unquivering lids, in the light of the torch.
"Oh, my God! I have killed him!" I murmured.
"Come away. You can do nothing here," said De Rilly, quietly. He caught me by the shoulder, and led me out of the room.
"Let us leave this neighborhood as soon as possible," he said, as we descended the stairs. "It is most unfortunate that the valet knows your name. He heard me speak it at the tavern, and he will certainly recall also that I hailed you as one of the French Guards."
"Why is that unfortunate?" I asked, still deprived of thought by the horror of having killed so honorable a gentleman, who had not harmed me.
"Because he can let the Duke of Guise know exactly on whom to seek vengeance for the death of De Noyard."
"The Duke of Guise will seek vengeance?" I asked, mechanically, as we emerged from that fatal house, and turned our backs upon it.