But, in spite of the many weapons directed against him, the man fought his way desperately towards the passage, and was close upon it, when a cut on the head staggered him, and he was captured and disarmed. He was followed by his two comrades, both of whom were more successful than himself, and effected a retreat. The ruffian who had been engaged with Osbert likewise escaped, having broken away amid the confusion caused by the arrival of Rodomont and his party. Some pursuit was made after the miscreants, but it was ineffectual. No sooner was Philip freed from his assailants, than he turned to express his gratitude to Constance. “I owe my life to you,” he said; “nay, more, you have risked your own life to preserve mine. How can I requite you?” “By forgetting that you have ever beheld me,” she replied. “That were impossible,” he rejoined. “Ask something that I can perform.” “I desire nothing,” she returned; “and, indeed, I do not merit your gratitude. It is the hand of Heaven that has guarded your Highness, not mine—guarded you for the Queen, to whom your safety is dearer than her own life, and who might not have survived your loss. I must now retire for a short space, to compose myself ere I return home. Once more, I implore you to forget me. Farewell for ever!” And without another word, and in spite of Philip’s appealing looks, she entered the hospital with Dorcas. “It would be well if I could forget her,” thought Philip, as Constance disappeared; “but that is beyond my power. I could not tear her from my heart without a pang greater than I could endure. Yet it would be a crime to trouble the peace of one so pure and holy-minded. No matter! I should be wretched without her. Come what will, we must meet again.” [Illustration] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Illustration] CHAPTER IX. DERRICK CARVER. From these thoughts he was recalled to what was going on by Rodomont, who called out, “Here is one of the murtherous villains who attacked your Highness. Will it please you to question him?” Philip turned at the words, and by the light of the torches which were held towards him, was enabled to examine the captive. The man, whose hands were tied behind his back by a belt, was of middle height, and rather powerful frame, and seemed to be decently attired; but his garments were sullied with blood, which flowed from several bodily wounds, as well as from a deep gash across the temple. His head was uncovered, and his matted black locks were dabbled in gore. His features, which were strongly marked, and remarkably stern in expression, were of a ghastly hue; but notwithstanding the smarting of his wounds and evident faintness from loss of blood, his looks were resolute and his black eyes blazed fiercely. He did not quail in the least before the searching and terrible glance fixed upon him by the Prince.