“Let me but cut a quarterstaff, and I’ll thank any five of them to come within striking distance. Jump, jump—a ditch!” They leapt it together, and an arrow struck a thorn bush near them on the farther bank. “The luck is with us!” “I could sing, but breath is precious! Ah, Master Fierceheart, my pride flies with yours!” He swerved close in, so that their shoulders touched. “Isoult, when did it begin with you?” “Ah—when! And with you?” “God knows! Someone lit a torch in me—Hullo!” Fulk had heard the whir of an arrow shot at a venture, and the sound of its striking home. He felt Isoult’s fingers contract on his, and heard her utter a sharp cry. “Isoult, ar’t hurt?” She flagged and faltered, with one hand to her side. “It’s over with me, Fulk; put your arm under my shoulders.” “Dear heart, where has it struck you?” “Here, where God thieved from Adam.” He heard her breathing through clenched teeth, and she began to weigh heavily upon his arm. “Fulk, I can go no farther.” “I’ll carry you.” “No, no; lay me down, dear madman, and run for it. Our luck is out. I have got my quittance.” He felt the arrow in her side, and the warmth of her blood upon his arm, and a wondering wrath came over him. Her body seemed to melt, to slip away, to surrender all the thrilling tenseness of its muscles. “Lay me down, my desire—and go.” He laid her down very gently, yet the twisting of the barb made her cry out. “A curse on the pain.” He knelt by her, but she tried to thrust him away. “It is my death wound. Up, dear fool; go—I charge you.” “Not I. Give me your knife.” She threw out her arms and caught him about the neck. “Go. You cannot save me. Go. I ask it, with the blood of my death wound on me. Oh, strong heart—once—the last!” She drew him down and kissed him fiercely with lips that clung, and then thrust him off. “Take the knife; I shall never need it!” “Isoult.” “Now—go!” “By God—I cannot!” “My own mad fool, what can you do now? Come back with the sword to-morrow—and take your vengeance.” He sprang up, her knife in his hand, as a man came out of the darkness. Fulk struck him so fiercely that he went down without a cry. Another rushed at him, and had the knife in his throat; but the rest of the pack were closing in. Fulk heard Isoult call to him. “The life is out of me, my desire. Run, cheat Merlin, and I’ll die happy.” He threw himself down beside her, kissed her mouth, and sprang away from under the feet of Merlin’s men. A flurry of arrows went after him in the darkness, but they flew wild and wide, and before they could shoot again Fulk had reached the woods. * * * * *