We need not waste time upon the preliminaries of the contest. Enough that, about ten o'clock at night, we find the rival players placed at the table; the opposing pieces arrayed in proper order of battle, with Le Moyne and Challus, looking on with faces filled with expectation and curiosity. The face of Alphonse D'Erlach might also be perceptible, in a momentary glance over the shoulders of one or other of the parties; but his movements were capricious, and, passing frequently between his own and the chamber of Laudonniere, he only looked at intervals upon the progress of the game. Unhappily, the details of this great match, the several moves, and the final position of the remaining pieces, at the end of the contest, have not been preserved to us, though it is not improbable that the painter Le Moyne, as well as Challus, took notes of it. Enough, that Laudonniere put forth all his skill, exercised all his caution, played as slowly and heedfully as possible, and was----but we anticipate. Marchand, on the contrary, seemed never more indifferent. He scarcely seemed to look at the board--played promptly, even rapidly, and wore one of those cool, almost contemptuous, countenances which seemed to say, "I know myself and my enemy, and feel sure that I have no cause of fear." That his opinions were of this character is beyond all question; but, though his countenance expressed as much, Laudonniere reassured himself with the reflection that Marchand was well understood to be one of those fortunate persons who know admirably how to disguise their real emotions, however deeply they may be excited or anxious. Laudonniere's self-esteem was not deficient, in the absence of better virtues. He had his vanity at chess, and the game was so played, that the issue continued doubtful, except possibly to one of the spectators, almost to the last moment. Leaving the parties at the board, silent and studious, let us turn to the counsels of the conspirators, whom we must not suppose to be idle all this time. They had assembled--half a dozen of them at least--and were in close conference at the quarters of La Roquette, at the opposite extremity of the fortress. They were all excited to the highest pitch of expectation. The hour was drawing nigh for the attempt, and all eyes were turned upon Le Genré. "It is half past eleven," he exclaimed, "and the thing is to be done. But what is to be done, if those men whom we hold doubtful should take courage, and, in the moment of uproar take arms against us? We have made no preparations for this event. Now, this firing the train from my lodgings is but the work of a boy. It may be done by any body. It is more fitting that, with six or eight select men, well armed, I should be in reserve, ready to encounter resistance should there be any after the explosion." Villemain, a youth of twenty-two, a dark, sinister-looking person, slight and short, promptly volunteered to fire the train. His offer was at once accepted.