A righteous retribution indeed had overtaken him.
He had died by the sword he had drawn--died, a priest, by violence! The cross he had renounced had crushed him.

And all his schemes and thoughts, and no doubt they had been many, had perished with him.

It had come to this, only this, the sum of the whole matter, that there was one wicked man the less in Paris--one lump of breathless clay the more.
For her--the woman on his breast--what man can judge a woman, knowing her?
And not knowing her, how much less?
For the present I put her out of my mind, feeling for the moment faint and cold.
We were clear of the crowd, and clattering unmolested down a paved street before I fully recovered from the shock which this sight had caused me.

Wonder whither we were going took its place.

To Bezers' house?
My heart sank at the prospect if that were so.