style="font-size:15px;"> La Hurière, without making any reply, went and knocked at the door, and the sounds echoing in the silence of the night caused the doors of the Hôtel de Guise to open, and several heads to make their appearance from out them; it was evident that the hôtel was quiet after the manner of citadels, that is to say, because it was filled with soldiers.
The heads were almost instantly withdrawn, as doubtless an inkling of the matter in hand was divined.
“Does your Monsieur de Mouy live here?” inquired Coconnas, pointing to the house at which La Hurière was still knocking.
“No, but his mistress does.”
“By Heaven! how gallant you are, to give him an occasion to draw sword in the presence of his lady-love! We shall be the judges of the field. However, I should like very well to fight myself — my shoulder burns.”
“And your face,” added Maurevel, “is considerably damaged.”
Coconnas uttered a kind of growl.
“By Heaven!” he said, “I hope he is dead; if I thought not, I would return to the Louvre and finish him.”
La Hurière still kept knocking.
Soon the window on the first floor opened, and a man appeared in the balcony, in a nightcap and drawers, and unarmed.
“Who’s there?” cried he.
Maurevel made a sign to the Swiss, who retreated into a corner, whilst Coconnas stood close against the wall.
“Ah! Monsieur de Mouy!” said the innkeeper, in his blandest tones, “is that you?”
“Yes; what then?”
“It is he!” said Maurevel, with a thrill of joy.
“Why, sir,” continued La Hurière, “do you not know what is going on? They are murdering the admiral, and massacring all of our religion. Hasten to their assistance; come!”
“Ah!” exclaimed De Mouy, “I feared something was plotted for this night. I ought not to have deserted my worthy comrades. I will come, my friend — wait for me.”
And without closing the window, through which a frightened woman could be heard uttering lamentations and tender entreaties, Monsieur de Mouy got his doublet, his mantle, and his weapons.
“He is coming down! He is coming down!” muttered Maurevel, pale with joy. “Attention, the rest of you!” he whispered to the Swiss.
Then taking the arquebuse from Coconnas he blew on the tinder to make sure that it was still alight.
“Here, La Hurière,” he added, addressing the innkeeper, who had rejoined the main body of the company, “here, take your arquebuse!”
“By Heaven!” exclaimed Coconnas, “the moon is coming out of the clouds to witness this beautiful fight. I would give a great deal if Lambert Mercandon were here, to serve as Monsieur de Mouy’s second.”
“Wait, wait!” said Maurevel; “Monsieur de Mouy alone is equal to a dozen men, and it is likely that we six shall have enough to do to despatch him. Forward, my men!” continued Maurevel, making a sign to the Swiss to stand by the door, in order to strike De Mouy as he came forth.
“Oho!” said Coconnas, as he watched these arrangements; “it appears that this will not come off quite as I expected.”
Already the noise made by De Mouy in withdrawing the bar was heard. The Swiss had left their hiding-place to arrange themselves near the door, Maurevel and La Hurière were going forward on tiptoe, and Coconnas with a dying gleam of gentlemanly feeling was standing where he was, when the young woman who had been for the moment utterly forgotten suddenly appeared on the balcony and uttered a terrible shriek at the sight of the Swiss, Maurevel, and La Hurière.
De Mouy, who had already half opened the door, paused.
“Come back! come back!” cried the young woman. “I see swords glitter, and the match of an arquebuse — there is treachery!”
“Oho!” said the young man; “let us see, then, what all this means.”
And he closed the door, replaced the bar, and went upstairs again.
Maurevel’s order of battle was changed as soon as he saw that De Mouy was not going to come out. The Swiss went and posted themselves at the other corner of the street, and La Hurière, with his arquebuse in his hand, waited till the enemy reappeared at the window.
He did not wait long. De Mouy came forward holding before him two pistols of such respectable length that La Hurière, who was already aiming, suddenly reflected that the Huguenot’s bullets had no farther to fly in reaching the street from the balcony than his had in reaching the balcony.
“Assuredly,” said he to himself, “I may kill this gentleman, but likewise this gentleman may kill me in the same way.”
Now as Maître La Hurière, an innkeeper by profession, was only accidentally a soldier, this reflection determined him to retreat and seek shelter in the corner of the Rue de Braque, far enough away to cause him some difficulty in finding with a certain certainty, especially at night, the line which a bullet from his arquebuse would take in reaching De Mouy.
De Mouy cast a glance around him, and advanced cautiously like a man preparing to fight a duel; but seeing nothing, he exclaimed:
“Why, it appears, my worthy informant, that you have forgotten your arquebuse at my door! Here I am. What do you want with me?”
“Aha!” said Coconnas to himself; “he is certainly a brave fellow!”
“Well,” continued De Mouy, “friends or enemies, whichever you are, do you not see I am waiting?”
La Hurière kept silence, Maurevel made no reply, and the three Swiss remained in covert.
Coconnas waited an instant; then, seeing that no one took part in the conversation begun by La Hurière and continued by De Mouy, he left his station, and advancing into the middle of the street, took off his hat and said:
“Sir, we are not here for an assassination, as you seem to suppose, but for a duel. I am here with one of your enemies, who was desirous of meeting you to end gallantly an old controversy. Eh, by Heaven! come forward, Monsieur de Maurevel, instead of turning your back. The gentleman accepts.”
“Maurevel!” cried De Mouy; “Maurevel, the assassin of my father! Maurevel, the king’s assassin! Ah, by Heaven! Yes, I accept.”
And taking aim at Maurevel, who was about to knock at the Hôtel de Guise to request a reinforcement, he sent a bullet through his hat.
At the noise of the report and Maurevel’s shouts, the guard which had escorted the Duchesse de Nevers came out, accompanied by three or four gentlemen, followed by their pages, and approached the house of young De Mouy’s mistress.
A second pistol-shot, fired into the midst of the troop, killed the soldier next to Maurevel; after which De Mouy, finding himself weaponless, or at least with useless weapons, for his pistols had been fired and his adversaries
