ss a chance of gain in the sack of the town, let not that trouble you;
you shall lose nothing by your service."

The archers obeyed, and the wounded knight was borne to a rich chamber,
the lady herself showing the way. When he had been laid in bed, she
threw herself on her knees before him, and pleadingly said,--

"Noble sir, I present you this house and all that is therein, all of
which, in truth, I well know to be yours by right of war. But I
earnestly pray that it be your pleasure to spare me and my two young
daughters our lives and honor."

"Madam," answered the knight, with grave courtesy, "I know not if I can
escape from my wound; but, so long as I live, trust me that no harm
shall come to you and your daughters, any more than to myself. Only keep
them in their chambers; let them not be seen; and I assure you that no
man in the house will take upon himself to enter any place against your
will."

These words the lady heard with joy, and on Bayard's request that he
should have a good surgeon without delay, she and one of the archers set
out in quest of the best that could be found. Fortunately, it proved
that the knight's wound, though deep, was not mortal. At the second
dressing Master Claude, the surgeon of Gaston de Foix, took him in hand,
and afterwards attended him assiduously until his wound was healed, a
process which took about a month. After the first dressing of the wound,
Bayard asked his hostess, in kindly tones, where her husband was.

"I know not, my lord, if he be dead or alive," she answered, bursting
into tears. "If he be living, I am sure he has taken refuge in a
monastery where he is well known."

"Let him return home," answered Bayard. "I shall send those after him
who will see that he has no harm."

The lady, elate with hope, sent to inquire, and found that her husband
was really where she had supposed. Bayard's steward and the two archers
were sent for him, and conducted him safely through the turmoil of the
streets, where war's ravage, in its worst form, was still afoot. On his
arrival, the knight received him with a courteous welcome, and bade him
not to be alarmed, as only friends were quartered upon him, and he
should suffer no loss in person or estate.

For a month the wounded knight lay on his couch, where, though he was
made as comfortable as possible by the assiduous ministrations of his
grateful host and hostess, he suffered much from his hurt. At the end of
that time he was a