But Pierre loved life too well to be despatched without a struggle, and before Duval had time to pull the trigger, his son made a sudden dart at him and dashed the revolver aside, and at the same time closing with the General, threw him on to the ground. Under ordinary circumstances Duval's superior strength would have made it an easy task for him to render Pierre powerless, but the pain in his injured arm became so excruciating that it gave Pierre every advantage over him. Duval still held on to his revolver, and endeavoured to fire at his son's body, but as he was in the act of pulling the trigger during the heat of the struggle, Pierre unintentionally twisted his father's hand round at the moment when the revolver was going off. The trigger fell, and the bullet passed right through Duval's heart. Pierre instantly released him, and getting up observed his father give a few convulsive gasps and fall back dead. He gazed on him with a wild look of terror, and falling on his neck, gave way to his feelings of grief. But his remorse soon changed to alarm for his own safety, and he fervently thanked his stars that he had sent his servant out for the evening. His first task was to open the window wide, and then taking his father's money out of his pocket, he scattered a few coins on the floor, and upset some of the furniture. The rest of the money together with his father's gold watch, keys, and revolver, he transferred to his own pockets. Pierre carefully locked the door on the inside, and climbing out of the window he re-entered the house by the front door, and picking up his valaise and portmanteau (which he had previously packed) straight-way left the house. A couple of streets further on he hailed a cab and bid the cocher drive to his father's house. He kept the cab waiting while he let himself into the house with Duval's latchkey, and made his way to the library where his father kept the safe. It was only the work of a few minutes to open the safe and tumble all the bank-notes, securities, and other valuables into a small portmanteau. Hurriedly grasping this, he ran downstairs and re-entered the fiacre. "Drive to the Quai D'Orsay Station," he called to the cocher. As soon as the fiacre stopped, Pierre went quickly into the lavatory and washed off a few traces of blood which had splashed on his clothes. "Thank God, no one can recognise me now," he muttered, as he proceeded to shave off his moustache, and adjust a set of false whiskers and a small beard which he had taken the precaution to pack away in his valaise. "Ha! Ha! Why, my own mother wouldn't know me," he added as he peered into the mirror with a look of satisfaction. An hour later he bid good-bye to Paris, and found himself rapidly travelling in the direction of Bordeaux. CHAPTER XIX THE VIGIL "Anche la Speme[17] Ultima Dea, fugge i sepolchri e involve Tutte cose l'Oblio nella sua notte." Foscolo.--_Dei Sepolcri._ 16.