statue, large enough to brush away like so many flies the crowd of citizens, who fell back hushed and awe-*stricken before the muskets and halberds which were used with much wilful violence.
The Governor of the city, the Duke Charles de Rochelle, seated on his charger, a magnificent coal black Flemish animal, drew up in the centre of the cleared space, and gazed with amused contemptuousness upon the shrinking burghers.
He made a striking centre-piece. Short and slight of figure, yet suggesting suppleness and strength, his fifty years sat lightly on him. His fair hair had scarce a touch of grey, and his pointed auburn beard and flowing moustache might have belonged to a man twenty years his junior. His features, strong and regular, would have been handsome but for the small close-set grey eyes, whose cold, hawk-like glitter was rendered additionally repulsive by a strong cast.
"The eyes of a wild beast," thought Gerard, who had been watching him intently. "Well named the Tiger."
At a signal from the Governor, the herald stepped forward amid a blare of trumpets and read the proclamation. The people listened in dead silence; but at the close, loud murmurs broke out which even the presence of the soldiery could not wholly check.
"It means starvation to us," cried one lusty voice, and a powerful fellow, a smith, wielding the heavy hammer of his trade, broke through the ring of the soldiers and made as if to approach the Governor.
"What dog is this that dares to bay?" It was the Duke who spoke.
"I am no dog, my lord, but a burgher of Morvaix, and I do but speak what all here know," answered the smith sturdily.
The Duke fixed his keen eyes on the man's face, and
