Then, stooping suddenly, the Parisian ran his blade under the other brave's guard and through the fellow's thigh.

The man cried out, staggered, and then went down utterly disabled.
One swift downward thrust Garnache made at the mass that wriggled under his cloak.

The activity of its wriggles increased in the next few seconds, then ceased altogether.
Tressan felt wet from head to foot with a sweat provoked by horror of what he saw.

The Dowager's lips were pouring forth a horrid litany of guard-room oaths, and meanwhile Garnache had swung round to meet Fortunio, the last of all who had stood with him.
The captain came on boldly, armed with sword and dagger, and in that moment, feeling himself spent, Garnache bitterly repented having relinquished his cloak.

Yet he made a stubborn fight, and whilst they fenced and stamped about that room, Marius came to watch them, staggering to his mother's side and leaning heavily upon Tressan's shoulder.