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"You you!" laughed Miraudin, tearing off the lace veil which she wore wrapped loosely round her head and shoulders, "You, Jeanne Richaud! What is to become of you? The same fate will attend you that attends all such little moths of the footlights! Perhaps a dozen more lovers after me then old age, and the care of a third- class lodging-house for broken-down actors!" Here he chose his weapon.
Nothing had been heard of Miraudin himself; I therefore, knowing all the circumstances, drove out to the Campagna by the Porte Pia, the way that Miraudin had gone, and the way I bade the Marquis follow; but on the Ponte Nomentano I met some of the Miserecordia carrying two corpses on the same bier, two corpses so strangely alike that they might almost have been brothers! they were the bodies of the Marquis Fontenelle and, Miraudin!"
The Pope is only one man, but what would become of all the Monsignori?" asked a voice different to the rest in mellowness and deep quality, but with a touch of insolent mockery in its tone. Another burst of laughter answered him. Fontenelle turned in his chair and looked at the last speaker, and to his amazement saw the actor, Miraudin.
Yes remembered it! put it down chronicled it with precision as to time and place, and set it, a breathing fact, before me in my old age, a living witness of my own treachery." He paused, the congregation stirred, the actor Miraudin looked up at him with a surprised half-smile.
Here she broke off, terrified in spite of herself by the immovability of Fontenelle's attitude, and the coldness of his eyes. "I regret to pain you, Madame," he said stiffly, "This combat was arranged according to rule between Monsieur Miraudin and myself some hours since and though it seems he did not intend to keep his engagement I intend to keep mine!
Swiftly the cloud passed and a brilliant silver glory was poured out on hill and plain and broken column, and as it shone, the two shots were fired simultaneously the two bullets whizzed through the air. A light puff of smoke rose in the moonbeams it cleared and Miraudin reeled backwards and fell heavily to the ground.
"I hear," answered Fontenelle, speaking with difficulty, "You have hated me, you say hate me no more! for hate is done with and love also! I am dying!" He grasped the rank grass with both hands in sudden agony, and his face grew livid. Miraudin turned himself on one arm. "Dying! You, too! By Heaven! Then the Marquisate must perish!
Miraudin looked at him with staring filmy eyes. "How I have hated you, Monsieur le Marquis!" he muttered thickly, "How I have hated you! Yes as Cain hated Abel! For we we are brothers as they were born of the same father ah!
Fontenelle stood upright, but staggered a little, instinctively putting his hand to his breast. Jeanne Richaud rushed to the side of her fallen lover. "Victor! Victor!" Miraudin struggled up to a half sitting position the blood was welling up thickly from a wound in his lungs. Half suffocated as he was, he made a strong effort to speak, and succeeded.
He did not see that the woman who had professed to love Miraudin had already rushed away from his corpse in terror, and was entreating the cabman to drive her quickly from the scene of combat, he realised nothing save the white moonbeams on the still face of the man who in God's sight had been his brother.
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