Not yet had a blow been struck for the honour of this land and of the Kingdom.
But a blind injustice was, in its own way, doing the work of justice.
On the march, Delagarde, suspecting treachery to himself, not without reason, required of Rullecour guarantee for the fulfilment of his pledge to make him Vicomte of the Island when victory should be theirs.
Rullecour, however, had also promised the post to a reckless young officer, the Comte de Tournay, of the House of Vaufontaine, who, under the assumed name of Yves Savary dit Detricand, marched with him.
Rullecour answered Delagarde churlishly, and would say nothing till the town was taken--the ecrivain must wait.

But Delagarde had been drinking, he was in a mood to be reckless; he would not wait, he demanded an immediate pledge.
"By and by, my doubting Thomas," said Rullecour.

"No, now, by the blood of Peter!" answered Delagarde, laying a hand upon his sword.
The French leader called a sergeant to arrest him.

Delagarde instantly drew his sword and attacked Rullecour, but was cut down from behind by the scimitar of a swaggering Turk, who had joined the expedition as aide-de-camp to the filibustering general, tempted thereto by promises of a harem of the choicest Jersey ladies, well worthy of this cousin of the Emperor of Morocco.
The invaders left Delagarde lying where he fell.

What followed this oblique retribution could satisfy no ordinary logic, nor did it meet the demands of poetic justice.