ah, is that you, de Winter? You sent me a strange madman this morning! See the state in which he has put me.”

“Oh, my Lord!” cried the baron, “I shall never console myself.”

“And you would be quite wrong, my dear de Winter,” said Buckingham, holding out his hand to him. “I do not know the man who deserves being regretted during the whole life of another man; but leave us, I pray you.”

The baron went out sobbing.

There only remained in the closet of the wounded duke Laporte and Patrick. A physician was sought for, but none was yet found.

“You will live, my Lord, you will live!” repeated the faithful servant of Anne of Austria, on his knees before the duke’s