"Not here," he said, with a malicious laugh. "You forget your manners: familiarity"--he glanced towards the couch--"has bred--" "Coward!" I cried. "I will kill you at her feet." "Come, then," he answered, and stepped away from the door, drawing his sword, "since you will have it here. But if I kill you, as I intend--" He smiled detestably, and motioned towards the couch, then turned to the door again as if to lock it. I stepped between, my sword at guard. At that the door opened. A woman came in quickly, and closed it behind her. She passed me, and faced Doltaire. It was Madame Cournal. She was most pale, and there was a peculiar wildness in her eyes. "You have deposed Francois Bigot," she said. "Stand back, madame; I have business with this fellow," said Doltaire, waving his hand. "My business comes first," she replied. "You--you dare to depose Francois Bigot!" "It needs no daring," he said nonchalantly. "You shall put him back in his place." "Come to me to-morrow morning, dear madame." "I tell you he must be put back, Monsieur Doltaire." "Once you called me Tinoir," he said meaningly. Without a word she caught from her cloak a dagger and struck him in the breast, though he threw up his hand and partly diverted the blow. Without a cry he half swung round, and sank, face forward, against the couch where Alixe lay. Raising himself feebly, blindly, he caught her hand and kissed it; then he fell back. Stooping beside him, I felt his heart. He was alive. Madame Cournal now knelt beside him, staring at him as in a kind of dream. I left the room quickly, and met the Sisters of Mercy in the hall. They had heard the noise, and were coming to Alixe. I bade them care for her. Passing rapidly through the corridors, I told a servant of the household what had occurred, bade him send for Bigot, and then made for my own safety. Alixe was safe for a time, at least--perhaps forever, thank God!--from the approaches of Monsieur Doltaire. As I sped through the streets, I could not help but think of how he had kissed her hand as he fell, and I knew by this act, at such a time, that in very truth he loved her after his fashion. I came soon to the St. John's Gate, for I had the countersign from Gabord, and, dressed as I was, I had no difficulty in passing. Outside I saw a small cavalcade arriving from Beauport way. I drew back and let it pass me, and then I saw that it was soldiers bearing the Seigneur Duvarney to the Intendance.