"Hound!" I gasped, choking with rage, "if you are a man, if there be a spark of pride or honour left in your lying, cowardly soul, order your assassins to give me my sword, and, wounded though I be, I'll fight with you this duel that you lured me here to fight."
He laughed harshly.
"I told you but this morning, Master de Luynes, that a St. Auban does not fight men of your stamp. You forced a rendezvous upon me; you shall reap the consequences."
Despite the weakness arising from loss of blood, I sprang towards him, beside myself with fury. But ere I had covered half the distance that lay between us my arms were gripped from behind, and in my spent condition I was held there, powerless, at the Marquis's mercy. He came slowly forward until we were but some two feet apart. For a second he stood leering at me, then, raising his hand, he struck me--struck a man whose arms another held!--full upon the face. Passion for the moment lent me strength, and in that moment I had wrenched my right arm free and returned his blow with interest.
With an oath he got out a dagger that hung from his baldrick.
"Sang du Christ! Take that, you dog!" he snarled, burying the blade in my breast as he spoke.
"My God! You are murdering me!" I gasped.
"Have you discovered it? What penetration!" he retorted, and those about him laughed at his indecent jest!
He made a sign, and the man who had held me withdrew his hands. I staggered forward, deprived of his support, then a crashing blow took me across the head.
I swayed for an instant, and with arms upheld I clutched at the air, as if I sought, by hanging to it, to save myself from falling; then the moon appeared to go dark, a noise as of the sea beating upon its shore filled my ears, and I seemed to be falling--falling--falling.
A voice that buzzed and vibrated oddly, growing more distant at each word, reached me as I sank.
"Come," it said. "Fling that carrion into the river."
Then nothingness engulfed me.