He might have contended that, his master being slain, it was no great matter what he did, for in the end the Condillacs must surely have their way with Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye.

But he never paused to think of that just then.

His sense of trust was strong; his duty to his master plain.

He stepped back, and drew his sword.
"Let me pass!" he roared.

But at the same instant there came the soft slither of another weapon drawn, and Rabecque was forced to turn to meet the onslaught of Monsieur Gaubert.
"You dirty traitor," cried the angry lackey, and that was all they left him breath to say.