ely, and, flinging it down with a curse, the man drew his
sword and seized a pike that stood against the wall. I charged
recklessly up the steps, bending my body to avoid the pike. It went
through my doublet, just under the left armpit. Ere he could disencumber
it I pressed forward upon the landing. I turned his sword with my
dagger, and thrust with my own sword under the pike, piercing his side.
Only wounded, he leaped back, drawing the pike from my clothes. He aimed
at me again with that weapon. In bending away from it, I fell on my
side, but instantly turned upon my back.

The man moved to stand over me. I let go my sword, and caught the pike
in my hand as it descended. He then tried to spit me with his sword, but
I checked its point with the guard of my dagger. I thought I was near my
end. He had only to draw up his sword for another downward thrust; but
there was a sudden faltering, or hesitation, in his movements, probably
a blindness of his eyes, the effect of his wound. In that instant of his
uncertainty, I swung my dagger around and ran it through his leg. He
fell forward upon me, nearly driving the breath out of my body. My
dagger arm, extended as it had been, was fortunately free. I crooked my
elbow, embraced my adversary, and sank the dagger deep into his back. I
felt his quiver of death.

After I had rolled his body off me, and sheathed my sword and dagger, I
took out the key and unlocked the door. Inside the vaulted room of
stone, which was lighted by a candle, stood the Countess and Mathilde.

The Countess, beautiful in her pallor, and looking more angel than woman
in the plain robe of blue that clothed her slight figure, met me with a
face of mingled reproach, pity, and horror. Mathilde was in tears and
utterly downcast. I could see at a glance how matters stood, and ere I
had made two steps beyond the threshold, I stopped, abashed.

"Oh, Monsieur, the blood!" cried the Countess sadly, pointing to my
doublet.

"It is that of your two guards," I said. "I am not hurt."

"I am glad you are not hurt. But oh, why did you put this bloodshed upon
your soul?"

"To save you, Madame."

"Alas, I know. It is not for me to blame you--but could you think I
would escape--leave the house of my husband--become a fugitive wife?"

I saw how firm she was in her resolution for all her fragility of body,
and I scarce knew what to say.

"Madame, think! He is your husband, yes,--but your persecutor. Where you
should