"I know they were wicked men who are in hell long since, but I cannot contain a sort of admiration for the spirit that fastened them to their toil all that long night,—the old man with his broken arm, the young one with a dozen horrid wounds. As the sky paled towards morning, they discovered the girl dead, and leaving her where she lay they wrought on to uncover Vasco.
"When they found him he was crushed and broken, and pierced in many places with splinters and jagged broken ends of wood. But he had his senses still, and smiled as they cleared the thatch from above his face.
"The old man looked at him carefully. 'You are dying, my son,' he said.
"'Of course,' answered Vasco. 'Is that Renault?' He smiled again at his brother. 'So there are two of you alive, anyhow. How about the others?'
"'Two dead,' answered his father. 'And the other will not walk again all his days. You are a terrible fighter, my son.'
"'Yes,' answered Vasco, in a faint voice. 'It was the girl, you see.'
"'She was a witch, then?' asked the old man.
"'No,' said Vasco smiling. 'Or perhaps, yes. I do not know.
But I will fight for her again if you like.'
"'Oho! so that is it,' and the old man knelt down beside him. 'Now, I see,' he said. 'I never guessed before—did not know it was in you. My son, I ask you to forgive us.'
"'I forgive, but where is she?'