Bois-Doré recognized him at once, although that side of the tower was only faintly lighted by the conflagration. But he had no loaded weapon, so he jumped down from his horse and returned to the archway to go up to the moucharabi, considering with good reason that D'Alvimar's avenger was the most formidable of all the enemies with whom he had ever had to deal. Sancho saw him coming, divined his purpose, and without pausing to hurl projectiles which might miss him, he darted to the stairs leading to the _chambre de manœuvre_, determined to stab him, his knife being the only one of his weapons which was not at that moment useless. Bois-Doré was about to ascend the stairs, holding his sword over his head, when he seemed to have a presentiment of the course so treacherous an adversary was likely to pursue. He lowered the point of his sword and with it felt each stair in the darkness, divining that Sancho was crouching somewhere there, on the alert to pounce upon him and hurl him backward. He clung with one hand to the rail therefore, but did not protect his body sufficiently. Sancho, warned by the ringing of the steel on the stairs, sprang to his feet, leaped down several steps, and fell violently upon Bois-Doré, whom he threw backward and seized by the throat; then, kneeling upon his chest, he cried: "I have you now, accursed Huguenot! expect no mercy, as you had none for----" Before concluding his sentence, he felt for the marquis's heart; then, raising the knife in the other hand, added: "_For my son's soul_!" The marquis, stunned by his fall, defended himself but feebly, and it was apparently all over with him, when Sancho felt upon his face two tiny, faltering hands, which suddenly tore his flesh savagely, so that he had to make a movement to rid himself of them. Instantly a sudden thought led him to relax his hold of the marquis. "The child first!" he cried. But the words were forced back into his throat, and the thought interrupted in his brain by a terrible explosion. Mario had followed the marquis. He had heard him fall. He had felt in the darkness Sancho's face. He had known from the feeling that it was not Bois-Doré's. He had placed against that rough, hairy skull the muzzle of a pistol snatched from Clindor as he passed, and had fired point-blank. He had avenged his fathers death and saved his uncle's life. LVIII The marquis did not know at once what rescuing angel had come to his assistance. He freed himself from the body of Sancho, whose bent knees were still pressing upon him. He threw out his arms at random, thinking that he was attacked by a new enemy, who had missed him. His arms came in contact with Mario, who was struggling to lift him, exclaiming in a heart-broken tone: "Father, my poor father, are you dead?--No, you embrace me. Are you wounded?" "No, it is nothing! just a little suffocated, that is all," replied the marquis. "But what has happened? Where is that infamous knave?"