to what was addressed from the court to the window.

“Miserable wretches!” said the abbe, “you did not fight, then?”

“Like lions.”

“Say like cowards.”

“Monsieur!”

“A hundred men accustomed to war, sword in hand, are worth ten thousand archers in a surprise. Where is Menneville, that boaster, that braggart, who was to come back either dead or a conqueror?”

“Well, monsieur, he kept his word. He is dead!”

“Dead! Who killed him?”

“A demon disguised as a man, a giant armed with ten flaming swords —