The troopers were heavy fellows, cumbrously armed, who, even with numbers on their side, stood little chance against two swift swordsmen, who had been trained to fight together against odds.
One Gaspard pulled from the saddle so that he lay senseless on the ground.

One Champernoun felled with a sword cut of which no morion could break the force.

The two others turned tail and fled, and the last seen of them was a dust cloud on the road to Paris.
Gaspard had not drawn his sword.

They stood by the bridge of a little river, and he flung Guise's jewel far into its lilied waters.
"A useful bauble," he smiled, "but its purpose is served." The priest stood in the dust, with furious eyes burning in an ashen face.
"What will you do with me ?" "This has been your day of triumph, father.

I would round it off worthily by helping you to a martyr's crown.