To the right of the horse, upon the dark grass, with his face against the ground, the poor comte lay, bathed in his blood.

He had remained in the same spot, and did not even seem to have made the slightest movement.

Manicamp threw himself on his knees, lifted the comte in his arms, and found him quite cold, and steeped in blood.

He let him gently fall again.

Then, stretching out his hand and feeling all over the ground close to where the comte lay, he sought until he found De Guiche's pistol.
"By Heaven!" he said, rising to his feet, pale as death and with the pistol in his hand, "you are not mistaken, he is quite dead." "Dead!" repeated De Wardes.
"Yes; and his pistol is still loaded," added Manicamp, looking into the pan.
"But I told you that I took aim as he was walking towards me, and fired at him at the very moment he was going to fire at me." "Are you quite sure that you fought with him, Monsieur de Wardes?
I confess that I am very much afraid it has been a foul assassination.
Nay, nay, no exclamations! You have had your three shots, and his pistol is still loaded.