I thought, it is some fishing spear;
moreover his raiment was of scarlet, with upright stripes of yellow
and black all over it.

When my eye caught his, a smile widened his mouth as if some one had
made a joke; but I was beginning to sink, and indeed my head was
almost under water just as he came and stood above me, but before it
went quite under, I saw his spear gleam, then felt it in my shoulder,
and for the present, felt nothing else.

When I woke I was on the bank of that river; the flooded waters went
hurrying past me; no boat on them now; from the river the ground went
up in gentle slopes till it grew a great hill, and there, on that
hill-top, Yes, I might forget many things, almost everything, but not
that, not the old castle of my fathers up among the hills, its towers
blackened now and shattered, yet still no enemy's banner waved from
it.

So I said I would go and die there? and at this thought I drew my
sword, which yet hung about my neck, and shook it in the air till the
true steel quivered, then began to pace towards the castle. I was
quite naked, no rag about me; I took no heed of that only thanking God
that my sword was left, and so toiled up the hill. I entered the
castle soon by the outer court; I knew the way so well, that I did not
lift my eyes from the groimd, but walked on over the lowered
drawbridge through the unguarded gates, and stood in the great hall at
lastmy father's hall as bare of everything but my sword as when I came
into the world fifty years before: I had as little clothes, as little
wealth, less memory and thought, I verily believe, than then.

So I lifted up my eyes and gazed; no glass in the windows, no hangings
on the walls; the vaulting yet held good throughout, but seemed to be
going; the mortar had fallen out from between the stones, and grass
and fern grew in the joints; the marble pavement was in some places
gone, and water stood about in puddles, though one scarce knew how it
had got there.

No hangings on the walls- no; yet, strange to say, instead of them,
the walls blazed from end to end with scarlet paintings, only striped
across with green damp-marks in many places, some falling bodily from
the wall, the plaster hanging down with the fading colour on it.

In all of them, except for the shadows and the faces of the figures,
there was scarce any colour but scarlet and yellow. Here and there it
seemed the painter, whoever it was, had tried to make his trees or his
gr