"It is useless, Señor Ivan. Those which it is important for me to heal are the wounds of my soul; the medicine you have to supply me with is a lance, a crossbow, a sword, some arm or other, for I come to ask nothing else of you."
"I shall give you one with pleasure, for there are plenty of arms in my house, thanks to my old profession, and also to the need I have of them in this lonely place, where I have often to defend myself against bandits."
Ivan approached the light to one of the walls, on which were hung various arms, and added—
"Take whichever you please, for the bravest knight of Leon or Castile does not possess better tempered ones."
The young man took down a lance and also a sword, which he girt on with as much skill as the most experienced cavalier could have used, and said:—
"Thanks, Señor Ivan. God be with you and do not tell anyone that you have seen me to-night."
"But, Martin, won't you tell me what you are going to do? What has happened to you?"
"Some day you shall know, Señor Ivan."
"But where are you going, my son?"