A smile passed over the Vicomte´s face. “When la belle Marie brought my Lord Galmoy to the house, he made sure that all your party were within, and made your men prisoners before they could draw a sword or fire a shot. But your captain, for what reason I know not, was passing the night in the stable, and when he was discovered he was already armed and putting the saddle on his great horse. For a pious Christian who is given to long prayers, he swears strangely. But he is a brave man and can fight _sans doute_. It was beautiful to see him swinging his long sword and swearing great oaths that I did not wholly understand. They went down before him like the corn, and the others fled crying that it was the devil. For myself I admire brave men and did not care to help the cowards. I doubt not he and I will meet again; and we shall finish our little quarrel and one of us will return no more.” “Then he made his escape--on foot or on horseback?” “The great horse is still standing in the bastle and your captain must walk far, Monsieur Orme, before he is at home. But you cannot kill such men; they do not easily die. If M. le Medicin will pardon me, I might suggest that we can now spare him, for I am assured that there are others who need his services.” “Faith,” said the surgeon, “you are speaking the truth, Vicomte, for the mellow Falernian has been going round, and I can hear the gentlemen already in their cups. For you, sir, I hope to see you in the morning--though,” he added, under his breath, “as like as not with a cord round your neck and your feet in the air.” “And now, my friend,” said De Laprade, when the doctor had left the room, “I doubt not you have heard of what manner is my Lord Galmoy. It is best to speak plainly. He can feel no pity nor show mercy. He cares not for the laws of war. Every prisoner is only an enemy. Should you answer him boldly I think your death is certain; even I who have some influence with him could not save you.” “Have no fear for me,” said Gervase, rising to his feet and feebly attempting to stand; “for I have little fear for myself. Life is sweet and I do not wish to die, but the dread of death will not make me a coward. I shall die as I have humbly striven to live--though,” he added, with a faint smile, “hanging is hardly seemly for a gentleman. I knew poor Charleton, and they say he met his death like a man. I hope I may do the same when my time comes.” “These are but heroics,” said the Vicomte; “we must not grumble at our cards but play the game, and yours--Well, sir, what do you want?” A sergeant of dragoons entered the room and swaggered forward, “My Lord would see the prisoner, and I was sent to fetch him.” “Tell my Lord Galmoy he will be with him in an instant, and that he is badly wounded. I myself will attend him and you need not wait.”