Shudderingly he leaned over the abyss, expecting to see the mutilated corpse of his faithful squire on the rocks below. At first he failed to espy him, and his eye glanced hither and thither in surprise, mingled with a faint hope. A leaden spout, by which the rain-water from the tower was carried off, had stopped the body midway in its terrible fall; and there Gabriel saw it hanging, motionless and doubled up over the spout. At first sight he thought that life was extinct, but he desired to pay the last tokens of respect in any event. Pilletrousse, whom Martin-Guerre had always been fond of, was looking on weeping, and his devotion to his friend seconded his master's pious reflections. He fastened himself securely to the rope ladder, and ventured down into the abyss. When he reascended, bringing with him, after much labor, the body of his friend, they saw that Martin was still breathing. A surgeon who was at hand announced that life was not extinct; in fact, Martin regained consciousness to some extent. But he came back to greater suffering, for he was in a sad plight. He had a broken arm and a crushed thigh. The surgeon could set the arm without difficulty, but he judged it necessary to amputate the leg, and did not dare to undertake so difficult an operation alone. More than ever Gabriel deplored that though a victor, he was confined to the Risbank fort. The delay, which had been trying enough before, now became almost intolerable. If only he could get word to expert Ambroise Paré, Martin-Guerre might be saved. CHAPTER XX LORD WENTWORTH AT BAY The Duc de Guise, upon reflection, could not bring himself to believe in the success of so foolhardy an enterprise; nevertheless, he determined to see with his own eyes whether Vicomte d'Exmès had or had not achieved his end. In such straits as those to which he was reduced, one can but hope even for the impossible. So, before eight o'clock, with but very few attendants, he was already on the cliff Gabriel had pointed out to him, from which the Risbank fort could be seen with a telescope. At the first glance that he cast in the direction of the fort he uttered a triumphant cry. He could not be mistaken; he clearly recognized the standard of France. His companions agreed that it was no delusion, and shared his delight. "My brave Gabriel!" he cried. "He has really been successful in his prodigious undertaking. Has he not shown himself to be a greater man than I, who doubted its practicability? Now, thanks to him, we can prepare for the capture of Calais, and make sure of it at our leisure. Let the reinforcements come from England, and Gabriel will take it upon himself to give them a hearty welcome." "Monseigneur, it is as if your words had summoned them," said one of the duke's aids, who turned the glass seaward at this moment. "Look, Monseigneur, are not those English sail on the horizon?" The duke took the glass, and carefully scanned the wide expanse of the channel.