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Updated: June 3, 2025
Her voice dropped piteously on the last words; her eyes, craving her lover's pardon, sought his. But rage, not pity or admiration, was the feeling roused in Tignonville's breast. He stood staring at her, struck dumb by folly so immense. At last "You cannot mean this," he blurted out. "You cannot mean, Mademoiselle, that you intend to stand on that!
Count Hannibal was outside his opponent's sword and had the advantage. Tignonville's dagger fell, but glanced off the metalwork of the other's hilt; Tavannes' fell swift and hard between the young man's eyes. The Huguenot flung up his hands and staggered back, falling his length on the floor. In an instant Count Hannibal was on his breast, and had knocked away his dagger. Then
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