she turned her attention to my shoulder. This was a more
difficult matter, and all that we could do was to attempt to stanch the
blood, which already had drenched my doublet on that side. To this end
she passed a long scarf under my arm, and wound it several times about
my shoulder.
At last her gentle ministrations ended, I sought to rise. A dizziness
assailed me scarce was I on my feet, and it is odds I had fallen back,
but that she caught and steadied me.
"Mother in Heaven! You are too weak to ride," she exclaimed. "You must
not attempt it."
"Nay, but I will," I answered, with more stoutness of tone than I felt
of body, and notwithstanding that my knees were loosening under my
weight. "It is a faintness that will pass."
If ever man willed himself to conquer weakness, that did I then, and
with some measure of success--or else it was that my faintness passed
of itself. I drew away from her support, and straightening myself, I
crossed to where the animals were tethered, staggering at first, but
presently with a surer foot. She followed me, watching my steps with
as much apprehension as a mother may feel when her first-born makes his
earliest attempts at walking, and as ready to spring to my aid did I
show signs of stumbling. But I kept up, and presently my senses seemed
to clear, and I stepped out more surely.
Awhile we stood discussing which of the animals we should take. It was
my suggestion that we should ride the horses but she wisely contended
that the mules would prove the more convenient if the slower. I agreed
with her, and then, ere we set out, I went to see to my late opponents.
One of them--Ser Stefano--was cold and stiff; the other two still lived,
and from the nature of their wounds seemed likely to survive, if only
they were not frozen to death before some good Samaritan came upon them.
I knelt a moment to offer up a prayer for the repose of the soul of him
that was dead, and I bound up the wounds of the living as best I could,
to save them greater loss of blood. Indeed, had it lain in my power, I
would have done more for them. But in what case was I to render further
aid? After all, they had brought their fate upon themselves, and I doubt
not they were paying a score that they had heaped up heavily in the
past.
I went back to the mules, and, despite my remonstrances, Madonna Paola
insisted upon aiding me to mount, urging me to have a care of my wound,
and to make no violent movement that sh
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