hands. Murder, cruel, midnight, and most foul, wrung even from the
murderers her toll of horror. While some, to hide the nervousness they
felt, babbled of what they would do, others betrayed by the intentness
with which they awaited the signal, the dreadful anticipations that
possessed their souls.

Before he had formed any plan, a movement took place near the door. The
stairs shook beneath the sudden trampling of feet, a voice cried "De par
le Roi! De par le Roi!" and the babel of the room died down. The throng
swayed and fell back on either hand, and Marshal Tavannes entered,
wearing half armour, with a white sash; he was followed by six or eight
gentlemen in like guise. Amid cries of "Jarnac! Jarnac!"--for to him
the credit of that famous fight, nominally won by the King's brother, was
popularly given--he advanced up the room, met the Provost of the
merchants, and began to confer with him. Apparently he asked the latter
to select some men who could be trusted on a special mission, for the
Provost looked round and beckoned to his side one or two of higher rank
than the herd, and then one or two of the most truculent aspect.

Tignonville trembled lest he should be singled out. He had hidden
himself as well as he could at the rear of the crowd by the door; but his
dress, so much above the common, rendered him conspicuous. He fancied
that the Provost's eye ranged the crowd for him; and to avoid it and
efface himself he moved a pace to his left.

The step was fatal. It saved him from the Provost, but it brought him
face to face and eye to eye with Count Hannibal, who stood in the first
rank at his brother's elbow. Tavannes stared an instant as if he doubted
his eyesight. Then, as doubt gave slow place to certainty, and surprise
to amazement, he smiled. And after a moment he looked another way.