e an end of, for all that.

The French war, delayed occasionally by a truce, was still in progress
when a certain Lord named VIDOMAR, Viscount of Limoges, chanced to find
in his ground a treasure of ancient coins. As the King's vassal, he sent
the King half of it; but the King claimed the whole. The lord refused to
yield the whole. The King besieged the lord in his castle, swore that he
would take the castle by storm, and hang every man of its defenders on
the battlements.

There was a strange old song in that part of the country, to the effect
that in Limoges an arrow would be made by which King Richard would die.
It may be that BERTRAND DE GOURDON, a young man who was one of the
defenders of the castle, had often sung it or heard it sung of a winter
night, and remembered it when he saw, from his post upon the ramparts,
the King attended only by his chief officer riding below the walls
surveying the place. He drew an arrow to the head, took steady aim, said
between his teeth, 'Now I pray God speed thee well, arrow!' discharged
it, and struck the King in the left shoulder.

Although the wound was not at first considered dangerous, it was severe
enough to cause the King to retire to his tent, and direct the assault to
be made without him. The castle was taken; and every man of its
defenders was hanged, as the King had sworn all should be, except
Bertrand de Gourdon, who was reserved until the royal pleasure respecting
him should be known.

By that time unskilful treatment had made the wound mortal and the King
knew that he was dying. He directed Bertrand to be brought into his
tent. The young man was brought there, heavily chained, King Richard
looked at him steadily. He looked, as steadily, at the King.

'Knave!' said King Richard. 'What have I done to thee that thou
shouldest take my life?'

'What hast thou done to me?' replied the young man. 'With thine own
hands thou hast killed my father and my two brothers. Myself thou
wouldest have hanged. Let me die now, by any torture that thou wilt. My
comfort is, that no torture can save Thee. Thou too must die; and,
through me, the world is quit of thee!'

Again the King looked at the young man steadily. Again the young man
looked steadily at him. Perhaps some remembrance of his generous enemy
Saladin, who was not a Christian, came into the mind of the dying King.

'Youth!' he said, 'I forgive thee. Go unhurt!' Then, turning to the
chief officer who