The Huguenot Bartholomew Dupuy and his descendants

STORY OF A HUGUENOT'S SWORD. 115
"Come with us— come !"
Chap. i.
"No, I should not be a true husband. My wife "^^
shall not want in a foreign land, and I must wait Pistoi
so long. But you must go. Set out at once to Shots,
bring
your companions; I will ride part of the way with
you."
They hastened down, and just as the darkness
descended, mounted their horses. Fontaine was
armed to the teeth, and rode a black Arabian, the
finest of his stud. He led another horse by the
bridle.
Madame Dupuy embraced her husband and his
friend, courageously bade them God-speed, and they
departed in silence.
A short ride brought them opposite the house of
the unfortunate Mouillere. It was only a smoulder-
ing ruin; and within a few paces of a dying fire,
made of broken furniture, some drunken troopers
were sleeping. They had been left to keep watch
for any heretics who lurked near, and had embraced
the opportunity of getting drunk.
Within ten feet of these miscreants lay the dead
body of Messire Mouillere, and beside him the
j'orpses of his wife and her infant child. The body
of the lady was half naked, and shockingly burnt;
the babe had been killed by the blow of a horseman's
pistol. The drunkenness of blood was needed
in addition to that of wine.
The two men reined in their animals for a
moment, and gazed with heaving bosoms upon the
terrible scene. Hatred mounted to Fontaine's
countenance, like a black shadow. Taking from his
belt a pistol, he cocked it, and set spur to his horse,
with a hoarse cry, which sounded like the roar of
a lion.
Dupuy caught the bridle, however, and threw the
animal upon his haunches.
"You prevent my vengeance upon these monsters
I" cried Fontaine; "you stop me in executing
justice !"