"Ay," said the wounded man, "that must be thought of. But all this is partly your uncle's own fault, Helen. I warned him when he put you with my sister, that he was giving his dove to a vulture. I told him it would be your ruin; but none of those people heeded the old soldier. They followed their own plans, and thought plain truth, foolishness.--Hark! do you not hear horses? It is good old Estoc, come to see his dying leader." The next moment, there was a knock at the chamber door, and before any one could say, "Come in," it opened, and the tall bony figure of Estoc, clothed in armour, such as was worn in that day, but with the head-piece laid aside, appeared striding up with his wide steps to the bed-side of the wounded Commander. "How goes it, Sir?" he cried, "how goes it?" "Fast, Estoc, fast!" answered the old knight. "I am glad you have come, for there is much to talk about before I go. Helen, dear child, run away for a while; and take some repose and refreshment, for you have scarcely tasted aught since I have been here. She has been an angel to me, Estoc,--like my own child." "Thank you, Mademoiselle, thank you," cried Estoc, taking her hand and kissing it, while she turned away her head, "God will bless you for it!" The tears rolled over Helen's cheeks; and, saying "Call me when you want me, Sir," she left the room. For more than an hour the old Commander de Liancourt and Estoc remained together, while Helen, at the window of a room above, sat and gazed out upon the sky, seeing the last rays of light fade away, and the stars look forth one by one. "Ah!" she said to herself, as she watched them, "other lights come in the heavens when the sun sets; but there is none so bright as that which is gone. The moon, too, may rise with her pale beams; but it is still night, shine she ever so brightly." At length the surgeon arrived and went in again. The next moment he sent for Helen to aid him; but when she entered the old Commander's room, she found that he would not suffer his wound to be meddled with. "It is of no avail, master surgeon," he said; "I know I am dying. You can do no good, and you do but torture me. Let the ball alone; it has performed its work right well; you only make it angry with your probes. Put on a cool cataplasm if you will, and tell me about what hour will be the end; for I see in your face that you know what I say is true. I would not go out of the world like a heathen; but the church is the only surgeon for me." The man of healing answered in a vague and doubtful manner, but assured the old soldier that there was no immediate danger; and, after some vain persuasions, to the end that he might once more examine the wound minutely, he took his leave, after having applied what he thought fit externally.