“I mean not so; but the law in this land slays an honest man an if he do but steal. What follows? he would be pitiful, but is discouraged herefrom; pity gains him no pity, and doubles his peril: an he but cut a purse his life is forfeit; therefore cutteth he the throat to boot, to save his own neck: dead men tell no tales. Pray then for the poor soul who by bloody laws is driven to kill or else be slaughtered; were there less of this unreasonable gibbeting on the highroad, there should be less enforced cutting of throats in dark woods, my masters.” “Fewer words had served,” replied Gerard coldly. “I asked a question, I am answered,” and suddenly doffing his bonnet-- “'Obsecro Deum omnipotentem, ut, qua cruce jam pendent isti quindecim latrones fures et homicidae, in ea homicida fur et latro tu pependeris quam citissime, pro publica salute, in honorem justi Dei cui sit gloria, in aeternum, Amen.'” “And so good day.” The greedy outlaw was satisfied last. “That is Latin,” he muttered, “and more than I bargained for.” So indeed it was. And he returned to his business with a mind at ease. The friends pondered in silence the many events of the last few hours. At last Gerard said thoughtfully, “That she-bear saved both our lives-by God's will.” “Like enough,” replied Denys; “and talking of that, it was lucky we did not dawdle over our supper.” “What mean you?” “I mean they are not all hanged; I saw a refuse of seven or eight as black as ink around our fire.” “When? when?” “Ere we had left it five minutes.” “Good heavens! and you said not a word.” “It would but have worried you, and had set our friend a looking back, and mayhap tempted him to get his skull split. All other danger was over; they could not see us, we were out of the moonshine, and indeed, just turning a corner. Ah! there is the sun; and here are the gates of Dusseldorf. Courage, l'ami, le diable est mort!” “My head! my head!” was all poor Gerard could reply. So many shocks, emotions, perils, horrors, added to the wound, his first, had tried his youthful body and sensitive nature too severely. It was noon of the same day. In a bedroom of “The Silver Lion” the rugged Denys sat anxious, watching his young friend. And he lay raging with fever, delirious at intervals, and one word for ever on his lips. “Margaret!--Margaret Margaret!” CHAPTER XXVI It was the afternoon of the next day. Gerard was no longer lightheaded, but very irritable and full of fancies; and in one of these he begged Denys to get him a lemon to suck. Denys, who from a rough soldier had been turned by tender friendship into a kind of grandfather, got up hastily, and bidding him set his mind at ease, “lemons he should have in the twinkling of a quart pot,” went and ransacked the shops for them.