I felt a sharp blow on my wrist, the cup was dashed from my hand on to the stone floor, breaking into ten thousand pieces, while the wine made a puddle at my feet.

I stood there for an instant, struck motionless, glaring into the face that was opposite to mine.

It was M.de Perrencourt's, no longer calm, but pale and twitching.

This was the last thing I saw clearly.

The King and his companions were fused in a shifting mass of trunks and faces, the walls raced round, the singing of the sea roared and fretted in my ears.