you in this case!"

"Think not of that, kind John," said Eustace; "death must come sooner
or later, and a sword-cut is the end for a Knight."

"You will not, shall not die, Sir Eustace!" cried Gaston. "Your
wounds--"

"I know not, Gaston; but the point is now, not of saving my life, but
the Castle. Speed, speed, Ingram! Tell the Prince, if this Castle be
taken, it opens the way to Bordeaux itself. Tell him how many brave
men it contains, and say to him that I pray him not to deem that
Eustace Lynwood hath disgraced his knighthood. Tell Arthur, too, to
bear me sometimes in mind, and never forget the line he comes of. Fare
thee well, good John!"

"Let me but hear that I have your forgiveness, Sir Knight."

"You have it, as freely as I hope for mercy. One thing more: should
you see Leonard Ashton, let him know that I bear him no ill-will, and
pray him not to leave the fair fame of his old comrade foully stained.
Farewell: here is my hand--do not take it as scorn that it is my
left--my right I cannot move--"

The yeoman still stood in a sort of trance, gazing at him, as if unable
to tear himself away.

"See him off, Gaston," said the Knight; "then have the walls properly
manned--all is in your hands."

Gaston obeyed, hurrying him to the gate, and giving him more hope of
Sir Eustace's recovery than he felt; for he knew that nothing but the
prospect of saving him was likely to inspire the yeoman with either
speed or pertinacity enough to be of use. He fondly patted Brigliador,
who turned his neck in amaze at finding it was not his master who
mounted him, and having watched them for a moment, he turned to look
round the court, which was empty, save for the bodies of those whom he
had slain in his furious onset. He next repaired to the hall, where he
found the greater part of the men loitering about and exchanging
different reports of strange events which had taken place:--"He can't
be a wizard, for certain," said one, "or he never would be in this
case, unless his bargain was up."

"It were shame not to stand by him now in the face of the enemy," said
another. "How bold he spoke, weak and wounded as he was!"

"He is of the old English stock," said a third,--"a brave,
stout-hearted young Knight."

"Well spoken, old Simon Silverlocks," said Gaston, entering. "I doubt
where you would find another such within the wide realm of France."

"He is brave enough, that no man doubts," answered Simon, "but somewha