'All who were not killed. Stay! One escaped--that rascal Ravaillac. I could have run him through, but did not care to soil my sword with such _canaille_, so his skin is safe.' 'And Babette?' He gave me an expressive look and muttered something about Montfaucon. Then the door was flung open and a stream of light poured forth. We entered, and saw the King standing surrounded by his friends, and a little on one side was the dejected group of conspirators. The Marshal, now abject, mean, and cringing, was kneeling before Henry, who raised him as we entered, saying: 'Biron, and you, Tremouille, and you all who called yourselves my friends, and lay in wait to destroy me and destroy your country--I cannot forget that we were old comrades, and for old friendships' sake I have already told you that I forgive; and God give you all as clean a conscience as I have over the blood that has been spilt to-day.' He ran his eye over the group, and they stood before him abashed and ashamed, and yet overcome with joy at escape when death seemed so certain; and he, their leader, the man who hoped to see his head on a crown-piece, broke into unmanly sobbing, and was led away vowing repentance--vows that he broke again, to find then that the mercy of the King was already strained to breaking-point. As Lafin, with a white and bleeding face, led his master away, Henry's eye fell on me, and he beckoned me to advance. I did so, leading Claude by the hand. 'Chevalier,' he said, 'it is saying little when I say that it is through you that these misguided gentlemen have realised their wrong-doing. There is one recompense you would not let me make you for the wrongs you have suffered. There is, however, a reward for your services which perhaps you will accept from me. I see before me a Royal Ward who has defied her guardian--_Ventre St. Gris!_ My beard is getting over grey to look after such dainties. I surrender my Ward to your care.' As he said this he took Claude's hand and placed it in mine. 'I see, madame,' he added, 'that this time you have no objections to the King's choice. There--quite right. Kiss her, man!' * * * * * It is all over at last--that golden summer that was so long, and yet seems but a day. It is ten years ago that those shining eyes, that never met mine but with the love-light in them, were closed for ever; and the gift that God gave me that did He take back. I am old, and grey, and worn. My son, the Vicompte de Bidache, is in Paris with the Cardinal, whilst I wait at Auriac for the message that will call me to her. When she went, Bidache, where we lived, became unbearable to me, and I came back here to wait till I too am called--to wait and watch the uneasy sea, to hear the scream of the gulls, and feel the keen salt air.