MERCEDES WOUNDED BEFORE THE CHÂTEAU.
"Help, help, my friends!" cried Bois-Doré, finding that he was alone with his son, and exposed to the assaults of invisible foes.
"Help, help, my friends!" cried Bois-Doré, finding that he was alone with his son, and exposed to the assaults of invisible foes.
His call was answered only by Lauriane and Adamas, who, when they saw the bandits put to flight, had abandoned the tower of the huisset and had come out to join the others.
While they with the help of the distracted Mario raised the poor Moorish woman from the ground, the marquis looked up toward the moucharabi and saw the tall figure of Sancho, who, recognizing the Moor, the original cause of his master's death, was somewhat consoled for having missed his aim. With no thought of escaping, he was hurriedly reloading his weapon.
Bois-Doré recognized him at once, although that side of the tower was only faintly lighted by the conflagration. But he had no loaded weapon, so he jumped down from his horse and returned to the archway to go up to the moucharabi, considering with good reason that D'Alvimar's avenger was the most formidable of all the enemies with whom he had ever had to deal.
Sancho saw him coming, divined his purpose, and without pausing to hurl projectiles which might miss him, he darted to the stairs leading to the chambre de manœuvre, determined to stab him, his knife being the only one of his weapons which was not at that moment useless.
Bois-Doré was about to ascend the stairs, holding his sword over his head, when he seemed to have a presentiment of the course so treacherous an adversary was likely to pursue.
He lowered the point of his sword and with it felt each stair in the darkness, divining that Sancho was crouching somewhere there, on the alert to pounce upon him and hurl him backward. He clung with one hand to the rail therefore, but did not protect his body sufficiently.
Sancho, warned by the ringing of the steel on the stairs, sprang to his feet, leaped down several steps, and fell violently upon Bois-Doré, whom he threw backward and seized by the throat; then, kneeling upon his chest, he cried: