And even when they assured him he would not believe, but desired to look on the face of his own and his father's enemy. "Open the window and throw him down!" he cried. So they cast him out. But the aged prince, with the life still in his body, clutched by instinct at the sill of the window as he fell. The young Duke, first ordering up a couple of flambeaux, deliberately wiped the blood from the face of his enemy with his kerchief, and cried out, "It is even he--I know him well. So perish all the enemies of the King and of the Catholic League!" Then, as his men still called from the window, the Duke looked up, angry to be disturbed in his gloating over his arch-foe. "There is also a lad here," they cried, "one from Geneva, who says he is of the Admiral's opinion. What shall we do with him?" "What is that to me?" said the Duke of Guise haughtily; "throw him after his master." And that is the reason why a certain John Stirling, a Scot of Geneva, went through life lame, wearing a countenance twisted like a mask at a fair, and--loved not the Duke Henry of Guise. Moreover, though he saw the Duke spurn his dead enemy with his foot, the boy felt not at the time the kicks with which the scullions imitated their master, but lay in a swoon on the body of Coligny. He came to himself, however, being cast aside as of no account, when they came to drag the Admiral's body to the gallows. After a while the spray of a fountain that played in the courtyard roused him. The lad washed his hands and crawled forth. He had lain all the terrible Sunday in the bloody court of Coligny's lodgings, under the shadow of the trembling acacias, which cast flecks of light and dark on the broad irregular stains of the pavement. But when the evening had come again, and the angry voices shouting "Kill! kill!" had died away, the lame boy hobbled painfully out. Somehow or other he passed through an unguarded gate, to find himself sustained by a fellow-countryman carrying a child, a little maid of four years. He must have been a strong man, that chance-met Scot, for he had an arm to spare for John Stirling. He spoke, also, words of hope and comfort to the boy. But these fell on deaf ears. For through the dull ache of his bones and the sharp nip of his wounds, undressed save for the blood that had dried upon them, the heart of the cripple remained with Henry of Guise. "No," he said over and over to himself, repeating the Duke's words, "the work is not yet finished!" It had, indeed, scarce begun. And he registered a vow. CHAPTER I. THE DAY OF BARRICADES "_The good Duke! The sweet Prince! The Church's pillar! Guise! The good Guise!_"