I caught my hand to my brow and staggered; I could not stand, I heard a clatter as though of a sword falling to the floor, arms were stretched out to receive me and I sank into them, hearing a murmur close by me, "Simon, Simon!" Yet one thing more I heard, before my senses left me--a loud, proud, imperious voice, the voice that speaks to be obeyed, whose assertion brooks no contradiction.

It rang in my ears where nothing else could reach them, and even then I knew whence it came.

The voice was the voice of M.de Perrencourt, and it seemed that he spoke to the King of England.
"Brother," he cried, "by my faith in God, this gentleman is innocent, and his life is on our heads, if he lose it." I heard no more.

Stupor veiled me round in an impenetrable mist.

The figures vanished, the tumultuous singing ceased.