"I am at your service, monsieur, when and wherever you please," and with this, and a formal bow to the King, he passed from the room--a man under God's right arm of justice.
What happened I never was able to find out exactly; but as far as I could gather it was this. As already mentioned, la Coquille, Lalande, and Pierre had been released by Navarre on his coming, and the former being faint from his wounds was resting on a wooden bench in the courtyard. As de Clermont passed, the sight of la Coquille and the memory of the insult he had put on him roused the haughty noble, already in a white heat with rage, to madness, and he struck the freelance once, twice, across the face with a light cane he bore in his hand, and fell a moment after stabbed to the heart, his murderer being cut down by the men-at-arms.
At once all was hurry and confusion. The dying man was borne in as gently as he could be, and placed on a settle. There was no leech in hand, and long before the priest of Lorgnac came it was all over. We did what we could, and in the horror of the fate that had overtaken this man in the pride of strength I forgot the past utterly. I could only see a terrible suffering for which there was no relief. We gathered, an awestruck group, around him, and he spoke no word at first, but suddenly called out, "Hold me up--I choke!"
Some one--I afterwards found it was Tremblecourt--raised him slightly and he spoke again, "De Lorgnac! Say what you have to say now, I'm going."
And Blaise de Lorgnac knelt by the couch, saying as he did so:
"I have no message now--forget my words, de Clermont."
"Would to God I had died by your hand," came the answer, "but to go like this--struck down like a dog. Your hand, de Lorgnac--yours, Denise--quick--I am going. Forgive."
De Tremblecourt laid him softly back on the cushion, and my tears fell fast on the cold hand I held in mine. Who could remember wrongs at such a moment?
The King bent over him and whispered in his ear. I thought I heard the word "pray," and a wan smile played on the lips of the dying man.
"Too late--I cannot cringe now. Ah! Norreys! I will join you soon. Denise--pardon," and he was gone.