I unclosed my eyes upon the grey dawn; but upon what dawn I knew not, whether of earth or purgatory or hell itself. They saw it swimming in a vague light: but my ears, from a sound as of rushing waters, awoke to a silence on which a small footfall broke, a few yards away. Marc'antonio must have unpenned the hogs; for the sty was empty. And the hogs in their rush must have thrown down the hurdles protecting me; for these lay collapsed, the one at my side, the other across me. The light footfall drew close and halted. I looked up into the face of the Princess. She came, picking her way across the mire; and with caution, as if she feared to be overheard. Clearly she had expected to find the sty empty, for even to my dazed senses her dismay was evident as she caught sight of me beneath the hurdle. "You have not gone! Oh, why have you not gone?" She was on her knees beside me in the filth. I heard her calling to Marc'antonio, and presently Marc'antonio came, obedient as ever, yet protesting. "He has not gone!" She moved her hands with a wringing gesture. I tried to speak, but for answer could only spread my hand, which still grasped the file: and for days after it kept a blue weal bitten across the palm. I heard Marc'antonio's voice protesting as she took the file and sawed with it frantically across my neck-chain. "But he must escape and hide, at least." "He cannot, Princess. The torture has worn him out." "It were better he died, then. For I must go." "It were better he died, Princess: but his youth is tough. And that you must go is above all things necessary. The Prince would kill me. . . ." "A little while, Marc'antonio! The file is working." "To what end, Princess?--since time is wanting. The bugle will call--it may call now at any moment. And if the Prince should miss you--Indeed it were better that he died--" Their voices swam on my ear through giddy whirls of mist, I heard him persuade her to go--at the last insist upon her going. Still the file worked. Suddenly it ceased working. It seemed to me that they both had withdrawn, and my neck still remained in bondage, though my legs were free. I knew that my legs were free though I had not the power to test this by drawing them up. I tried once, and closed my eyes, swooning with pain. Upon the swoon broke a shattering blow, across my legs and below the knees; a blow that lifted my body to clutch with both hands upon night and fall back again upon black unconsciousness. CHAPTER XIX. HOW MARC'ANTONIO NURSED ME AND GAVE ME COUNSEL. "Yet sometimes famous Princes like thyself, Drawn by report, adventurous by desire, Tell thee, with speechless tongues and semblance pale, That without covering, save yon field of stars, They here stand martyrs, slain in Cupid's wars; And with dead cheeks advise thee to desist For going on Death's net, whom none resist." _Pericles, Prince of Tyre_.