And even as he spoke the end came, for putting aside a still wilder thrust, I slipped within his guard and wounded him in the wrist.
At that the sword fell from his nerveless fingers, and staggering to the nearest tree, he leaned against its knotted trunk, while the blood dripped steadily upon the grass and his breath came in long-drawn, labouring sobs. And at this moment from the direction of the village the trumpets of the regiment sounded the “assembly.” The sound was wafted clearly to our ears upon the breeze, and I saw De Brito start and straighten himself ere turning to me with a puzzled frown.
“Well,” he said hoarsely, “what are you going to do?”
For answer I pushed his sword towards him with my foot.
“There is your sword,” I said shortly, “and the regiment is in the village. You should know as well as I the meaning of that trumpet call. For the rest, Señor de Brito, I am glad that our paths lie for the present wide apart.”
Still for a moment he glowered on me, relief struggling with hate upon his face. Then he stooped and raised his sword.
“You are a fool,” he said slowly, sheathing his blade and hastily twisting a handkerchief round his wounded wrist. “A while ago I should have killed you without scruple.”
“I am not an assassin,” I said coldly.
“On your head be it, then,” he answered sneeringly. “Only the matter does not end here, and if you live long enough there shall yet be a heavy reckoning between us. No, curse you!” he added with sudden passion, “you have not seen the last of Heitor de Brito.” And with a look of baffled hate, he turned upon his heel. Long after the sound of his footsteps had died away in the woods I stood where he had left me, pondering upon the events of the last half hour.
Indeed, it was only when from the village there came another long-drawn blast sounding the “advance” that I roused myself to a sense of my surroundings. Then sheathing my sword, I quenched my burning thirst at the stream, and having freely bathed my face and hands and ascertained that the wound upon my neck was a mere scratch—scarce more than skin deep, indeed—I turned to leave the spot. Yet now that the fierce excitement of the moment was past and had given place to the inevitable reaction, I began to ask myself what I had gained by championing my lady’s cause, and to count the cost of my interference. What was it to me that she should meet with insult, or that for her sake I should make for myself a ruthless enemy?