"What's the matter?" inquired Rodolph, quickly, whilst Rigolette was collecting several things out of the vehicle. "A terrible circumstance, monseigneur!" "Speak, in heaven's name!" "M. the Marquis d'Harville--" "You alarm me!" "Had several friends to breakfast with him this morning. He was in high spirits, had never been more joyous, when a fatal imprudence--" "Pray come to the point--pray!" "And playing with a pistol, which he did not believe to be loaded--" "Wounded himself seriously." "Monseigneur!" "Well?" "Something dreadful!" "What do you mean?" "He is dead!" "D'Harville! Ah, how horrible!" exclaimed Rodolph, in a tone so agonised that Rigolette, who was at the moment quitting the coach with the parcels, said: "Alas! what ails you, M. Rodolph?" "Some very distressing information I have just told my friend, mademoiselle," said Murphy to the young girl, for the prince was so overcome that he could not reply. "Is it, then, some dreadful misfortune?" said Rigolette, trembling all over. "Very dreadful, indeed!" replied the squire. "Yes, most awful!" said Rodolph, after a few moment's silence; then recollecting Rigolette, he said to her, "Excuse me, my dear neighbour, if I do not go up to your room with you. To-morrow I will send you my address, and an order to go to see Germain in his prison. I will soon see you again." "Ah, M. Rodolph, I assure you that I share in the grief you now experience! I thank you very much for having accompanied me; but I shall soon see you again, sha'n't I?" "Yes, my child, very soon." "Good evening, M. Rodolph," added Rigolette, and then disappeared down the passage with the various things she had brought away from Germain's room. The prince and Murphy got into the hackney-coach, which took them to the Rue Plumet. Rodolph immediately wrote the following note to Clemence: