d of the plank.

They came to the mouth of that street where the bravoes had waylaid them
on the previous night, only to find that they could not pass this way.
Here most of the houses were thrown down, and from their ruins rose
smoke and the hideous screams of those who perished. It was this part
of Venice, the home of the poorer folk, which suffered most from the
earthquake, that had scarcely touched many of the finer quarters. Still,
it was reckoned afterward that in all it took a toll of nearly ten
thousand lives.

Turning from this street, they made their way to the banks of a great
canal that here ran into the harbour, that on which they had been rowed
to the Place of Arms. Here by good luck they found a small boat floating
keep uppermost, for it had been overturned by the number of people who
crowded into it. This boat they righted with much toil and discovered
within it a drowned lady, also an oar caught beneath the seat. After
this their dreadful journey was easy, at least by comparison. For
now all the gloom had rolled away, the sun shone out and a fresh and
pleasant wind blew from the sea toward the land.

So, at last, passing many sad and strange scenes that need not be
described, they came safely to the steps of the ambassador's beautiful
house which was quite uninjured. Here they found several of his servants
wringing their hands and weeping, for word had been brought to them that
he was dead. Also in the hall they were met by another woe, for there on
a couch lay stretched the Lady Carleon smitten with some dread sickness
which caused blood to flow from her mouth and ears. A physician was
bending over her, for by good fortune one had been found.

Sir Geoffrey asked him what ailed his wife. He answered that he did not
know, having never seen the like till that morning, when he had been
called in to attend three such cases in houses far apart, whereof one
died within ten minutes of being struck.

Just then Lady Carleon's senses returned, and opening her eyes she saw
Sir Geoffrey, whom they had laid down upon another couch close to her.

"Oh, they told me that you were dead, husband," she said, "crushed or
swallowed in the earthquake! But I thank God they lied. Yet what ails
you, sweetheart, that you do not stand upon your feet?"

"Little, dear wife, little," he answered in a cheerful voice. "My foot
is somewhat crushed, that is all. Still 'tis true that had it not been
for this brave knight and his s