"Take back the word assassin, prince," he said; "I am none; Had your false constable died by my hand in fight, as would to Heaven he had! he would have died well and deservedly, as the man who attempts to kill the person to whom he surrendered merits by every law of arms. I am no assassin: it is you who butcher prisoners in cold blood. But I warn you, the time shall come--ay, and the knife that shall do it is even now sharpened--when you shall regret the blood that you now wantonly spill, as the hand of some other butcher like yourself takes a life that you have misused too long. Now fare you well! Do your will! I care not how soon it comes!" Thus saying, he turned away; he looked at me for a moment as if he would have spoken to me, but in that moment I could see his features change. I feel convinced that at that moment he recollected he might do me injury by any token of friendship, and he passed me as if he had never seen me before. The moment he was gone and the door closed, the Duke of Anjou pronounced my name; but, before I could answer, I heard one or two blows struck without, a short cry suppressed into a groan, and then a heavy fall. "Seigneur de Cerons!" repeated the voice of the Duke of Anjou in a fierce tone; and, turning to the table, I saw that prince's countenance extremely red, while the faces of all those who were standing around were deadly pale. I have never been accustomed to set any great value upon life, but I have never, in the course of my existence, felt so utterly careless of living and dying as I did at that moment. The great event seemed close upon me, and I advanced to the table as calmly as if I had been going to sit down to meat. The Duke of Anjou fixed his eyes upon me, and again there came upon his countenance that unpleasant smile, which, whether I interpreted it right or wrong I know not, seemed to augur anything but good. "You appear alarmed," said the duke, gazing at me. "If so, my lord," I replied, "my countenance must sadly belie my heart." "Then you fear nothing," he said. "We shall soon see how you will bear your fate." "Very probably, your highness," I replied, "as other men bear theirs; though, as to fear, I am as free from it as your highness." Among the officers who stood behind the duke, two made me a sign at this moment. The Duke of Montpensier pointed to the door through which Stuart had just passed, then lifted his hand as if to beseech me to be silent. Martigue, though evidently friendly towards me, knit his brows and shook his fist at me. But the Duke of Anjou, after gazing on me for a moment, exclaimed, "What babblers and braggarts these Huguenots are! Take the Maheutre out, and hang him to one of the spouts of the castle!" "I beg your highness's pardon," said Martigue, advancing with a frank and somewhat jocular air: "You will recollect he is my prisoner; and, before you hang him, you must pay me fifteen hundred crowns for his ransom."