was doing, the chevalier had drawn his sword, which was very short, and
using it as a dagger, had struck her in the breast; this first blow was
followed by a second, which came in contact with the shoulder blade, and
so was prevented from going farther. At these two blows the marquise
rushed towards the door, of the room into which the ladies had retired,
crying, "Help! He is killing me!"

But during the time that she took to cross the room the chevalier stabbed
her five times in the back with his sword, and would no doubt have done
more, if at the last blow his sword had not broken; indeed, he had struck
with such force that the fragment remained embedded in her shoulder, and
the marquise fell forward on the floor, in a pool of her blood, which was
flowing all round her and spreading through the room.

The chevalier thought he had killed her, and hearing the women running to
her assistance, he rushed from the room. The abbe was still at the door,
pistol in hand; the chevalier took him by the arm to drag him away, and
as the abbe hesitated to follow, he said:--

"Let us go, abbe; the business is done."

The chevalier and the abbe had taken a few steps in the street when a
window opened and the women who had found the marquise expiring called
out for help: at these cries the abbe stopped short, and holding back the
chevalier by the arm, demanded--

"What was it you said, chevalier? If they are calling help, is she not
dead, after all?"

"'Ma foi', go and see for yourself," returned the chevalier. "I have