Charles stood pale and trembling with the effort to restrain himself, as he listened to this recital, and De Roberval exulted in the thought that in another moment he would see the man whom he now no longer dreaded lying dead at his feet. At last La Pommeraye found his tongue.
"Take back that lie!" he thundered, "or, by the holy cross, I will pluck the tongue that uttered it from your false throat! Claude a deceiver! Marguerite a——" but he could get no further. He was about to draw his sword, when he saw De Roberval's weapon flash upwards. The action recalled him to his senses. He remembered that this was to be the signal for the assassins. He reached out a sudden hand, seized De Roberval by the throat, and dashed him headlong against the wall. The shock stunned him for a moment, and his sword fell ringing on the floor. Charles picked it up, snapped it across his knee, and flung the pieces at the nobleman.
"A wretched weapon," said he, "fit for a coward."
De Roberval raised himself, and sat glaring at the wrathful giant.
"You are surprised," said La Pommeraye, "that I have not killed you. It is not mercy; I but respect the hospitality of your roof. I will let you live for a time, tortured by your coward's conscience, and then I will strike you down. Assassin, your plot was discovered. You thought to have murdered me in your own house—you, who were once noble enough to strike at your own breast when you thought yourself defeated. Your peasants have more nobility. Etienne, whom you entrusted with the carrying out of your plan, told me the whole story, and I have sent him safely on his way on your best horse. Follow not his steps, or the Duke of Guise will make you feel his iron hand. You have still a few months to live. I passed the Isle of Demons, and saw your niece's watchfire beckoning me ashore. I return thither at once. If they are still alive I will come back and crave the King to mete out to you the punishment you deserve; if they have perished I will hack you limb from limb. Attempt not to follow me, or to send your dogs after me, or your days will suddenly be shortened."
Leaving the nobleman still half-stunned by the stinging blow he had received, and speechless at the threats he had listened to, especially at the mention of the Duke of Guise, Charles strode from the castle, mounted his horse, which awaited him at the gate, and rode away with a fury which put all chance of pursuit out of the question.
As he rode on with white face and set teeth, no one seeing him would have thought that the fierce eye and stern expression could have belonged to the dashing dare-devil, the prince of cavaliers and duellists, of a year before.