"Not yet!" he cried, with a smile of terrible import; "I do not choose, Madame, that you should turn your hand against yourself yet. Afterward you may do as you choose; and if you prefer to die with me rather than live with him, you will be quite at liberty to do so. But this last hour,--for there is only an hour left now,--this last hour of your life belongs to me; I have but this hour in which to make amends to myself for the eternity of hell to come hereafter; so be very sure that I will not renounce my right." He attempted to lay hold of her. Thereupon fainting, and feeling that her strength was forsaking her, she threw herself at his feet. "Mercy, my Lord!" she cried, "mercy, I ask mercy and forgiveness on my knees! By the memory of your mother, remember that you are a gentleman." "A gentleman!" retorted Lord Wentworth, shaking his head; "yes, I was a gentleman, and I so bore myself, I think, so long as I triumphed and hoped,--yes, so long as I lived. But now I am no longer a gentleman; I am simply a man,--a man who is about to die, and proposes first to be revenged." He raised Madame de Castro, kneeling at his feet, and held her close in a passionate embrace. She tried to pray, or to cry out, but she could not. At this moment a great uproar was heard in the street. "Ah!" Diane succeeded in ejaculating, her eye kindling once more with a ray of hope. "Good!" said Wentworth, with a demoniac laugh; "it seems that the people are beginning to plunder on their own account while waiting for the enemy. So be it! They are doing quite right, upon my word! It is for the governor to set the example." "Mercy!" she managed to say once more. "No, no!" was Lord Wentworth's response. "You are too beautiful." She swooned. But the governor had not even had time to kiss Diane's colorless lips, when the uproar came nearer. Vicomte d'Exmès, the two Peuquoys, and three or four French archers burst violently through the doorway and appeared upon the threshold. Gabriel fairly leaped upon Lord Wentworth, sword in hand, with a terrible cry. "Villain!" Lord Wentworth, with clenched teeth, also seized his sword which was lying upon a chair. "Stand back!" said Gabriel to his companions, who were about to intervene. "It is my pleasure to punish the infamous scoundrel with my own hand." Without another sound the two adversaries furiously crossed weapons. Pierre and Jean Peuquoy and their companions took up positions so as to give them ample space, and remained silent but by no means indifferent spectators of this deadly combat. Diane was still lying unconscious upon the couch. Let us tell in a few words how this providential succor had come to the defenceless prisoner so much sooner than Lord Wentworth had anticipated.