It was time to finish.

With a vigorous disengagement I got past his feeble guard and sent my blade into him full in the middle of his chest and out again at his back until a foot or so of glittering steel protruded.
A shudder ran through him, and his mouth worked oddly, whilst spasmodically he still sought, without avail, to raise his sword; then as I recovered my blade, a half-stifled cry broke from his lips, and throwing up his arms, he staggered and fell in a heap.
As I turned him over to see if he were dead, his eyes met mine, and were full of piteous entreaty; his lips moved, and presently I caught the words: "I am sped, Luynes." Then struggling up, and in a louder voice: "A priest!" he gasped.

"Get me a priest, Luynes.

Jesu! Have mer--" A rush of blood choked him and cut short his utterance.

He writhed and twitched for a moment, then his chin sank forward and he fell back, death starkening his limbs and glazing the eyes which stared hideously upwards at the cold, pitiless moon.
Such was the passing of the Marquis Cesar de St.Auban..