"She sent her nasty blood all over me. I think the smell must have overpowered me. Faugh! I hate blood."
"I do believe it potently."
"See what a mess she has made me!"
"But with her blood, not yours. I pity the enemy that strives to satisfy you."
"You need not to brag, Maître Denys; I saw you under the tree, the colour of your shirt."
"Let us distinguish," said Denys colouring: "it is permitted to tremble for a friend."
Gerard for answer, flung his arms round Denys's neck in silence.
"Look here," whined the stout soldier, affected by this little gush of nature and youth, "was ever aught so like a woman? I love thee, little milksop, go to. Good! behold him on his knees now. What new caprice is this?"
"Oh, Denys, ought we not to return thanks to Him who has saved both our lives against such fearful odds?" And Gerard kneeled and prayed aloud. And presently he found Denys kneeling quiet beside him, with his hands across his bosom, after the custom of his nation, and a face as long as his arm. When they arose Gerard's countenance was beaming.
"Good Denys," said he, "Heaven will reward thy piety."