"Et je n'ai moi Par la sang Dieu! Ni foi, ni loi, Ni jeu, ni lieu, Ni roi, ni Dieu." Victor Hugo, _Notre Dame de Paris_. "Nay, that's certain but yet the pity of it, Iago!--O Iago, the pity of it, Iago!" Othello, Act 4, Scene 1. "Are you going to Kennedy's, Julian?" asked De Vayne. "No." "I wish he'd asked you." Julian a little wondered why he had not, but remembered, with a sigh, that there was _something_, he knew not what, between him and Kennedy. Yet Kennedy was engaged to Violet! The thought carried him back to the beautiful memories of Grindelwald and Murrem,--perhaps of Eva Kennedy: I will not say. As De Vayne glanced round at the men assembled at Kennedy's rooms, he felt a little vexation, and half wished he had not come. Why on earth did Kennedy see so much of these Bruces and Brogtens when he was so thoroughly unlike them? But De Vayne consoled himself with the reflection that the evening could not fail to be pleasant, as Kennedy was there; for he liked Kennedy both for Julian's sake and for his own. Happily for him he did not know as yet that Kennedy was affianced to Violet Home. Kennedy sat at the end of the table with a gloomy cloud on his brow. "Here, De Vayne," he said; "I'm so really glad to see you at last. Sit by me--here's a chair." De Vayne took the proffered seat, and Bruce immediately seated himself at his left hand. At first, as the wine was passed round, there seemed likely to be but little conversation, but suddenly some one started the subject of a "_cause celebre_" which was then filling the papers, and Kennedy began at once to discuss it with some interest with De Vayne, who sat nearly facing him, almost with his back turned to Bruce, who did not seem particularly anxious to attract De Vayne's attention. "What execrable wash," said Brogten, emptying his glass. De Vayne, surprised and disgusted at the rudeness of the remark, turned hastily round, and, while Bruce as hastily withdrew his hand, raised the wine-glass to his lips. "Stop, stop, De Vayne," said Bruce eagerly; "there's a fly in your glass." "I see no fly," said De Vayne, glancing at it, and immediately draining it, with the intention of saying something to smooth Kennedy's feelings, which he supposed would have been hurt by Brogten's want of common politeness. "I think it very--" Why did his words fail, and what was the reason of that scared look with which he regarded the blank faces of the other undergraduates? And what is the meaning of that gasp, and the rapid dropping of the head upon the breast, and the deadly pallor that suddenly put out the fair colour in his cheeks? There was no fly--but, good heavens! was there death in the glass? The whole party leapt up from their places, and gathered round him.