She smothered a little cry and ran forward to meet him, for she had seen his figure sway, and halt, then lean heavily against the wall.
"You are hurt!" she exclaimed, even before she reached him.
At sound of her voice, he pulled himself together, and in a moment had straightened out his shoulders and was walking quite steadily toward her.
"Madonna!" he cried in astonishment, "what are you doing here?"
"Oh! I ... I..." she murmured, a little ashamed now that she met his pleasant, grey eyes fixed so kindly upon her, "I heard the noise ... I became anxious...."
"It was only a street-brawl," he said, "not fit for you to witness."
Even now, though he spoke quite firmly, his voice sounded weary and weak.
"You are hurt!" she reiterated.
"Hurt? No!" He laughed, but the laughter died on his lips: he had to steady himself against the wall, for a sudden dizziness had seized him.
"I pray you take my arm," she insisted. "Can you walk as far as the tavern?"