ant who tried to throw his fagot into
the moat became a mark for arquebus or pistol, and the weapons that had
so lately hung over the hearth at Nid de Merle were now aimed again and
again at the heads and corslets of Guisards, with something of the same
exulting excitement as, only higher, more engrossing, and fiercer than,
that with which the lads had taken aim at a wolf, or ridden after a fox.
Scaling-ladders were planted and hurled down again; stones were cast
from the battlements, crushing the enemy; and throughout Berenger's
quick eye, alert movements, and great height and strength, made him a
most valuable champion, often applauded by a low murmur of commendation
from old Falconnet, or a loud shout of 'Ha, well done, the Duke's
Englishman,' from the _gen d'armes_--for English they would have him to
be--on the presumptions afforded by his companions, his complexion, and
his slow speech. Nor did Philip and Humfrey fail to render good service.
But just as the enemy had been foiled in a sharp assault and were
dragging away their wounded, Philip touched his brother, and saying, 'I
can hold out no longer,' showed blood trickling down his right side.

Berenger threw an arm round him, and Captain Falconnet, seeing his case,
said, 'You are hit, _petit Anglais_; you have done gallantly. There will
be time for you to take him to his quarters, sir; these fellows have
had enough for the present, and you can tarry with him till you hear the
bugle. Whither, did you ask? Let me see. You, Renaud, take him to the
chapel: the old chancel behind the boarding will be more private; and
desire Madame to look to him. Farewell! I hope it may prove slight;
you are a brave youth.' And he shook hands with Philip, whose intense
gratification sustained him for many steps afterwards.

He hardly remembered receiving the hurt, and was at first too busy to
heed it, or to call off any one attention, until a dread of falling, and
being trodden on, had seized him and made him speak; and indeed he was
so dizzy that Berenger with difficulty kept him on his feet over the
bridge, and in the court lifted him in his arms and carried him almost
fainting into the cloister, where by the new-made grave still knelt the
black-veiled mourner. She started to her feet as the soldier spoke to
her, and seemed at first not to gather the sense of his words; but then,
as if with an effort, took them in, made one slight sound like a moan
of remonstrance at the mention of