Herval grasped his arm, and said, in a low but emphatic tone, "It is safe, Sir, against all the troops in Poitou. How long it may be so, I cannot tell; but as long as this arm can wield a sword, it shall not want defence. My Lord Count," he added, pointing to the dead body, "did I not hear that you meet her murderer to-morrow at noon?" "I know not the hour or place he may appoint," replied the Count in a low deep voice; "but we do meet! and there are things that call aloud for vengeance, Herval, which even I cannot forgive." The man laughed aloud, but that laugh was no voice of merriment. It was dreary, boding, horrible, and in good accordance with the circumstances and the scene. He replied nothing to the words of the Count, however, turning to the pastor and saying, "Now, Sir, now! If you will give shelter to the dead for but an hour or two, you shall win deep gratitude of the living." "Willingly," replied the pastor. "But then," he added, turning to one of the other two women who were present, "Who shall protect you home, dear lady?" "That will I do, at the risk of my life," said the Count; and the other woman, whom the pastor had not addressed, replied, "It will be better so. We have been too long absent already." Armand Herval had not noticed the brief words that were spoken, for he was gazing with an intense and eager look upon the fair countenance of the dead, with bitter anguish written in every line of his face. The pastor touched his arm gently, saying, "Now, my son, let me and you carry the body. We can pass through the wood unseen." But the other put him by, with his hand, saying, in a sad tone, "I need no help;" and then kneeled down by her side, he put his arms around her, saying, "Let me bear thee in my bosom, sweet child, once only, once before the grave parteth us, and ere it shall unite us again. Oh, Claire, Claire," he added, kissing her cold lips passionately, "Oh, Claire, Claire, was it for this I taught thee a purer faith, and brought thee hither to see the worship of the persecuted followers of the cross? Was it for this I bent down my nature, and became soft as a woman to suit my heart to yours? Oh, Claire, Claire, if I have brought thee to death, I will avenge thy death; and for every drop that falls from my eyes, I will have a drop of blood." "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord!" the old man said in a low tone; "but let us haste, my son, for night is coming on fast. Farewell, lady. Albert, I trust them to thee. We shall meet again--if not here, in heaven!" Armand Herval took the corpse of the fair girl who had fallen, in his powerful arms, and bore her after the pastor towards the wood we have mentioned, while his horse, trained so to do, followed him with a regular pace, and entered the road through the copse immediately after him.