“Meanwhile,” went on the robber, with a black frown, “my father was cast into a boiling caldron at Dinan,[[2]] for defacing the king’s coin; and my mother, who had gone thither to beg mercy for him, found none, and fell down and died where she stood. Then I, being left desolate, and having small love for the great folk who had made me so, became—what I am now, and must always be!”
The knight’s voice failed as he strove to reply; but the hearty, sympathizing clasp in which he seized the outcast’s hard brown hand said more than any words.
“What? Wilt thou take my hand?” said the felon, eyeing him wonderingly. “But thou knowest not all, even now.”
Just then a fierce red glare broke through the deepening gloom, as a sudden turn brought them out in front of a huge fire, round which sat thirty wild forms armed to the teeth, who shouted hoarsely—
“Welcome back, captain; we have waited long for thee!”
“My task is done, and my pledge redeemed,” said the grim guide to the knight. “I am the Black Wolf of the Forest!”
“And I,” said the knight, raising his visor, “am Bertrand du Guesclin!”
| [2] | See [chap. v.] The outlaw had probably had no chance to learn that his father had been saved by Brother Michael. |