“My young companion,” said the Englishman, “I make you my service. Your behaviour was so worthy in the hour of trial that I regret that I abused your nation. I never ask to see a young springald bear his sword better; and as for your five wits, they are those of a good boy. You have pleased me well, good Don; and I allow that your mother was an excellent person. And the same applies to your father.” A speech of this flattering civility, which I was happy to feel was my desert, gave me such pleasure that for the time I forgot that he who made it was undoubtedly a desperate and bloodthirsty character. Yet, in serving one to whom I was under the pledge of loyalty, I was committed to the interest of this bold and ruthless foreigner; besides the events of the night had given me a taste for the life of a soldier, which had bred a high intoxication in my veins. And the effect of this delightful madness was singular. At this hour I seemed to care little for the righteousness of my cause or the integrity of my company. My soul was possessed with the knowledge that I had killed a fellow creature in an open quarrel; and now, riding in the summer darkness, it asked no more than the opportunity to kill another. The Count of Nullepart also paid me a very civil compliment in his charming manner. But, as we rode knee to knee through the darkness, a strange silence fell upon our delightful friend. The path grew broken and uncertain, so that we were thrown about in our saddles; and the gay wisdom and laughter of our companion, which had done so much to lighten our journey, was no longer to be heard. Never had I known this gentle maker of harmony addict himself to so much silence. And then, quite suddenly, without sign or word or exclamation, the Count of Nullepart fell from his horse. CHAPTER XXIII OF THE COUNT OF NULLEPART’S EXTREMITY IT was with the deepest concern, for we had both come to love our companion, that Sir Richard Pendragon and I dismounted and lifted up the prostrate form in our arms. In the heavy darkness of the night, which was rendered more extreme by the shadows from the overhanging trees, we were at first at a loss to know what was the cause of this calamity. Our fear that the Count of Nullepart was dead was dispelled immediately. He could be heard to breathe. Passing our hands over him, however, we discovered that his doublet was soaked with blood. Yet for some time we were not able to discover the seat of what was evidently a grievous injury. Indeed it was not until we had revived our senseless comrade by bathing his temples in some stagnant water that we found in a rut in the middle of the road that we were able to learn its position and extent. It was by this providential means that our unlucky friend was himself enabled to inform us.