“Perhaps a very little,” she answered, with her eyes on his.
“Igraine!”
“Yes, Pelleas.”
“You are very wonderful.”
“Pelleas!” she said redly.
“I should have died without you, for I was witless, and coughing blood.”
“I thought you would die,” she said very softly, with her eyes downcast. “I held you in my arms and, God helping me, staunched the flow from your wound. But tell me, Pelleas, who was it stabbed you?”
The man smiled at her.
“There, I am as ignorant as you,” he said. “I woke with a fiery twinge in my side, and saw a man running out of the porch in the dark. I struggled to rise. Blood came into my mouth, and betwixt coughing and hard breathing I must have fainted. What of the others?”
Igraine knelt up from stooping over him, and thought.