again. Gaston's heart was lightened at having
heard that voice once more, even had that word been his last--and
answering, "Ay, truly, Sir Knight, all is well so you will but look
up," he succeed in pouring a little water into his mouth.

He was interrupted by several of the men-at-arms, who came trooping up
to the door, looking anxiously at the wounded Knight, while the
foremost said, "Master Gaston, here is gear which must be looked to.
Thibault Sanchez and half a dozen more have drawn together in
Montfort's tower, and swear they will not come forth till we have
promised their lives."

"Give them no such pledge!--Hang without mercy!" cried another voice
from behind. "Did not I myself hear the traitorous villains send off
Tristan de la Fleche to bear the news to Carcassonne? We shall have
the butcher of Bretagne at our throats before another hour is over."

"Cowardly traitor!" cried Gaston. "Wherefore didst thou not cut the
throat of the caitiff, and make in to the rescue of the Knight?"

"Why, Master d'Aubricour, the deed was done ere I was well awake, and
when it was done, and could not be undone, and we were but four men to
a dozen, what could a poor groom do? But you had better look to
yourself; for it is true as the legends of the saints, that Tristan is
gone to Carcassonne, riding full speed on the Knight's own black
charger!"

The news seemed to have greater effect in restoring Eustace than any of
Gaston's attentions. He again opened his eyes, and made an effort to
raise his head, as he said, almost instinctively, "Secure the gates!
Warders, to your posts!"

The men stood amazed; and Eustace, rallying, looked around him, and
perceived the state of the case. "Said you they had sent to summon the
enemy?" said he.

"Martin said so," replied Gaston, "and I fear it is but too true."

"Not a moment to be lost!" said Eustace. "Give me some wine!" and he
spoke in a stronger voice, "How many of you are true to King Edward and
to the Prince? All who will not fight to the death in their cause have
free leave to quit this Castle; but, first, a message must be sent to
Bordeaux."

"True, Sir Eustace, but on whom can we rely?" asked Gaston.

"Alas! I fear my faithful Ingram must be slain," said the Knight,
"else this could never have been. Know you aught of him?" he added,
looking anxiously at the men.

The answer was a call from one of the men: "Here, John, don't stand
there grunting like a hog; the K