But within ten minutes after he had spoken, the sound of a multitude might be heard approaching, and a quick, strong, decided step of one man coming on before all the rest.
Within the last few minutes, Durzil had seemed to lose all consciousness and power. He was, indeed, all but dead.
But at these sounds he roused like a dying war-horse to the trumpet; and as the quick step crossed the threshold, he staggered to his feet, drew his hand across his eyes, and cried, with his old sonorous voice,—it was his last effort—
“Is that you, lieutenant?”
“Ay, ay, captain.”
“Have you found her?”
“She is here,” said the young seaman, pointing with his hand to the corpse, which they were just bearing into the room.
“And he—ha! ha! ha! ha!—he is—there!” and he pointed, with a triumphant wafture of his gory sword, toward Jasper’s carcass, and then, with the blood spouting from his mouth and nostrils, fell headlong.
His officer raised him instantly, and as the flow of blood ceased, he recovered his speech for a moment. He pointed to the gaping crowd,
“Have—have you—told them—lieu—lieutenant?”