“I am very sorry for this, Corsoni, very, very sorry,” said Justin compassionately.
The Free Sword looked up. His youthful face seemed suddenly to have grown old and haggard with unutterable woe. Then he gently laid down the form of his wife, and struggled to his feet, and put his hand to his side for the sword that was no longer there. He looked about to find and deliver it to his captor. As he did so, the blood suddenly gushed in torrents from an unsuspected wound in his breast, and his face became livid.
“You are hurt, Corsoni,” said Justin, in a pitiful voice.
“Am I? I didn’t know,” answered the Free Sword, as he reeled and fell beside the body of his wife—DEAD.
CHAPTER XXV.
AFTER THE BATTLE.
Oh, womanly she prayed in tent,
When none beside did wake!
Oh, womanly she paled in fight
For one beloved’s sake!
And her little hand defiled with blood,