“Oh!” said Antragues, “I know where he is; the king ordered a grand chase at Compiègne, and M. de Monsoreau was to set off yesterday. It is all right, gentlemen; he is nearer the ground than we are, and may be there before us. We will call for him in passing.” The streets were empty as they went along; no one was to be seen except peasants coming from Montreuil or Vincennes, with milk or vegetables. The young men went on in silence until they reached the Rue St. Antoine. Then, with a smile, they glanced at Monsoreau’s house. “One could see well from there, and I am sure poor Diana will be more than once at the window,” said Antragues. “I think she must be there already,” said Ribeirac, “for the window is open.” “True, but what can be the meaning of that ladder before it?” “It is odd.” “We are not the only ones to wonder,” said Livarot, “see those peasants, who are stopping their carts to look.” The young men arrived under the balcony. “M. de Monsoreau,” they cried, “do you intend to be present at our combat? if so, be quick, for we wish to arrive first.” They waited, but no one answered. “Did you put up that ladder?” asked Antragues of a man who was examining the ground. “God forbid!” replied he. “Why so?” “Look up.” “Blood!” cried Ribeirac. “The door has been forced,” said Antragues; and seizing the ladder, he was on the balcony in a moment. “What is it?” cried the others, seeing him turn pale. A terrible cry was his only answer. Livarot mounted behind him. “Corpses! death everywhere!” cried he. And they both entered the room. It bore horrible traces of the terrible combat of the previous night. A river of blood flowed over the room; and the curtains were hanging in strips from sword cuts. “Oh! poor Rémy!” cried Antragues, suddenly. “Dead!” “Yes.” “But a regiment of troopers must have passed through the room,” cried Livarot. Then, seeing the door of the corridor open, and traces of blood indicating that one or more of the combatants had also passed through there, he followed it. Meanwhile, Antragues went into the adjoining room; there also blood was everywhere, and this blood led to the window. He leaned out and looked into the little garden. The iron spikes still held the livid corpse of the unhappy Bussy. At this sight, it was not a cry, but a yell, that Antragues uttered. Livarot ran to see what it was, and Ribeirac followed. “Look!” said Antragues, “Bussy dead! Bussy assassinated and thrown out of window.” They ran down. “It is he,” cried Livarot. “His wrist is cut.” “He has two balls in his breast.” “He is full of wounds.” “Ah! poor Bussy! we will have vengeance!” Turning round they came against a second corpse. “Monsoreau!” cried Livarot. “What! Monsoreau also.” “Yes, pierced through and through.” “Ah! they have assassinated all our friends.” “And his wife? Madame de Monsoreau!” cried Antragues; but no one answered. “Bussy, poor Bussy.”