The eyes of Olivier Delagarde opened.
"Ranulph--they've killed--me," gasped the stricken man feebly, and his head fell back.
An officer touched the youth's arm.

"He is gone," said he.

"Don't fret, lad, he died fighting for his country." The lad made no reply, and the soldiers hurried on towards the town.
He died fighting for his country! So that was to be the legend, Ranulph meditated: his father was to have a glorious memory, while he himself knew how vile the man was.

One thing however: he was glad that Olivier Delagarde was dead.

How strangely had things happened! He had come to stay a traitor in his crime, and here he found a martyr.