But all was not over for the unfortunate young man. On arriving on the staircase, he saw arms shine in the courtyard; some one fired, and the ball pierced his shoulder. The court being guarded, he thought of the little window, where Diana had said she would sit to see the combat, and as quickly as he could he dragged himself there, and locked the door behind him; then he mounted the window with great difficulty, and measured the distance with his eyes, wondering if he could jump to the other side. “Oh, I shall never have the strength!” cried he. But at that moment he heard steps coming up the staircase; it was the second troop mounting. He collected all his strength, and made a spring; but his foot slipped, and he fell on the iron spikes, which caught his clothes, and he hung suspended. He thought of his only friend. “St. Luc!” cried he, “help! St. Luc!” “Ah, it is you, M. de Bussy,” answered a voice from behind some trees. Bussy shuddered, for it was not the voice of St. Luc. “St. Luc!” cried he again, “come to me! Diana is safe! I have killed Monsoreau!” “Ah! Monsoreau is killed?” said the same voice. “Yes.” Then Bussy saw two men come out from behind the trees. “Gentlemen,” cried he, “in heaven’s name, help an unfortunate nobleman, who may still escape if you aid him.” “What do you say, monseigneur?” said one. “Imprudent!” said the other. “Monseigneur,” cried Bussy, who heard the conversation, “deliver me, and I will pardon you for betraying me.” “Do you hear?” said the duke. “What do you order?” “That you deliver him from his sufferings,” said he, with a kind of laugh. Bussy turned his head to look at the man who laughed at such a time, and at the same instant an arquebuse was discharged into his breast. “Cursed assassin! oh, Diana!” murmured he, and fell back dead. “Is he dead?” cried several men who, after forcing the door, appeared at the windows. “Yes,” said Aurilly. “But fly; remember that his highness the Duc d’Anjou was the friend and protector of M. de Bussy.” The men instantly made off, and when the sound of their steps was lost, the duke said, “Now, Aurilly, go up into the room and throw out of the window the body of Monsoreau.” Aurilly obeyed, and the blood fell over the clothes of the duke, who, however, raised the coat of the dead man, and drew out the paper which he had signed. “This is all I wanted,” said he; “so now let us go.” “And Diana?” “Ma foi! I care no more for her. Untie her and St. Luc, and let them go.” Aurilly disappeared. “I shall not be king of France,” murmured the duke, “but, at all events, I shall not be beheaded for high treason.” CHAPTER XCII. HOW BROTHER GORENFLOT FOUND HIMSELF MORE THAN EVER BETWEEN A GALLOWS AND AN ABBEY.