“May I, forsooth?” answered the gaoler. “By the holy rood, I take it mighty kindly of thee to give me such great licence. Howbeit, I be disposed to stay.” “How?” rejoined the cavalier. “Did not I give thee the corregidor’s pass?” “But that said nought of my leaving thee alone with the prisoner,” replied the gaoler, who, with the rapacity of his profession, was looking out for a small _douceur_. “No! no, Senhor? I’ll even stay, an’ it please thee.” “Then, shalt thou stay altogether!” cried the cavalier, vehemently. And, drawing a pistol from under his cloak, he levelled it at the gaoler’s breast. “Secure him!” he added to Hildebrand. It was a happy circumstance that Hildebrand fulfilled this injunction with promptitude, or the nervous agitation of the cavalier’s extended arm, not to mention the tremor of his voice, which, in his utter surprise and consternation, the gaoler did not observe, would have made it immediately apparent that his prowess and resolution might be easily overcome. Before the gaoler could collect himself, however, Hildebrand, favoured by his bewilderment, sprang boldly on his chest, and grappled him in both his arms. They struggled for a few moments with fearful earnestness and energy. Hildebrand’s first assault, while the gaoler was uncollected, had given him some advantage, and he had been enabled to secure the gaoler’s arms; but, as the struggle proceeded, the gaoler gained ground, and got his right arm free. He had his back planted against the door, and one of his short, bandy legs, by way of outwork, pushed between the legs of Hildebrand, so that the latter could not well throw him; and on obtaining the freedom of his right arm, this enabled him to maintain his position with the other, and make his right arm the vehicle of offensive measures. While Hildebrand was striving to throw him to the ground, he dropped his hand into his girdle, and, with a sudden jerk, drew forth a long knife. From the position of Hildebrand, however, he could not use it within, as he had intended; and he was obliged to draw it forth, and seek to stab him in the back. All this time, the young Spanish cavalier, with a singular and unaccountable indecision, had remained perfectly quiescent. He seemed, indeed (if the truth must be told), to be overwhelmed with fear, and to possess neither the will nor the power to interpose. But his irresolute disposition did not continue. As he saw the long knife of the gaoler raised above Hildebrand’s back, on the point of dealing him a deadly wound, his indecision appeared to vanish, and, whether from the impulse of the moment, or a more manly agency, his spirit to revive. “Jesu! he will stab him!” he exclaimed.