"The air was filled with the clatter of steel."
The old sergeant had not praised his men without cause. They were seasoned soldiers, hard and tough as iron, and without the least sense of fear. Fighting was their trade, and they were masters of the craft.
As for myself, I could ride, and handle a sword, but this was my first experience of a fight. I forgot the lessons in sword-play my father had taught me, and struck out wildly, hitting right and left. I saw D'Arçy's smiling face go down before me, felt Lautrec's sword pierce my arm, and then came directly in front of Raoul.
As it chanced I was able to stay my hand at the very moment of striking, but Raoul, poor lad, had not the same good fortune, and, just as I lowered my weapon, his sword passed through my body. I am an old man now, but I can still see the look of horror on his face, and hear his cry of anguish. I remember smiling at him feebly and trying to speak; then the fading daylight vanished, and with the darkness came unconsciousness.
The next thing I can remember was Raoul asking some one if I should die. Not being able to see him I stretched out my hand, and he, bending over me, spoke my name softly.
"My men?" I whispered faintly.
"They are all living! Do you know who I am?"
"Yes. Raoul."
"If you do not go away, M. Beauchamp, you will kill my patient."