Shall the murderer stand in presence of his brother--stained with the blood of that brother's son?
No! What ho, without there!--MacLouis!--Brandanes! Treachery! Murder! Take arms, if you love the Stuart!" MacLouis, with several of the guards, rushed into the apartment.
"Murder and treason!" exclaimed the miserable King.

"Brandanes, your noble Prince--" Here his grief and agitation interrupted for a moment the fatal information it was his object to convey.

At length he resumed his broken speech: "An axe and a block instantly into the courtyard! Arrest--" The word choked his utterance.
"Arrest whom, my noble liege ?" said MacLouis, who, observing the King influenced by a tide of passion so different from the gentleness of his ordinary demeanour, almost conjectured that his brain had been disturbed by the unusual horrors of the combat he had witnessed.
"Whom shall I arrest, my liege ?" he replied.

"Here is none but your Grace's royal brother of Albany." "Most true," said the King, his brief fit of vindictive passion soon dying away.

"Most true--none but Albany--none but my parent's child--none but my brother.