There was a screaming sound--a tremendous crash, as if the solid keep had rent beneath our feet to its deep foundations, and I was thrown, breathless, and stunned for a time, on the floor. In a minute, or less, sense returned, and the knowledge of immediate danger restored my energy. I staggered up, and looked around me. A cannon-shot--whether discharged at random, or because our figures had been seen struggling at the large window of the turret, I know not; but this cannon-shot--an eighteen-pound ball--had entered the aperture, dashing it to pieces, and tearing, as if it had been a gossamer web, the strongly interlaced bars of the iron grating, half-buried itself in the stone-wall beyond us. A large splinter of the grating, and a fragment of stone, had struck De Bitche on the breast and right arm, hurling him furiously on the floor, and causing the pistol, with which he was threatening my life to explode, and send its bullet through the ceiling. He was lying on his back and breathing slowly, with his eyes half-closed, and so far turned back within their sockets, that the white of them alone was visible. Amid the din of the cannonade, and the many sounds which filled this fortified tower, the crash of this random shot, and the report of the pistol were unnoticed or unheard. De Bitche was moaning heavily, and when I placed a foot upon his breast, a half-stifled sob escaped him. I surveyed him steadily, and I fear me furiously, as with something like a laugh of exultation, I possessed myself of his girdle, with its poniard, and remaining pistol; and I now deem it singular, that in the revulsion of my emotions, and in my fury and despair, having so many affronts to avenge; I did not then and there beat out his brains with my heel, or strangle him by placing my foot on his neck to destroy him as I would have done a wild beast. I placed the loaded pistol to his head, and said, 'Recover your senses as quickly as possible, M. le Comte; 'I have little time for trifling.' 'Viper!' he groaned, 'it is _your_ turn now.' 'And believe me, I shall not neglect it,' I replied, spurning him with my foot; 'ha--ha! M. le Comte, I hope your mother has been forgiven--' 'For what, fellow?' 'For bringing into the world, a villain so unparalleled as you! Now, hear me. You have in your possession a letter which you compelled me to write a few minutes ago--to write with this pistol at my ear. You will please to deliver up that letter?' He hesitated. 'The letter!' I hissed through my teeth; 'or, by heaven! I will cut off your head with this dagger, and toss it through that shattered window.' By the left hand he drew it from his breast, and in doing this, I perceived by a futile effort he made to move the right arm, that it was _broken_. I carefully tore the letter into the smallest pieces, and scattered them about. 'Good! now M. le Comte, I have another favour to ask. The letter of Mademoiselle de Lorraine?'