shalt have money to buy masses for thy dead
lad; I swear it. Meantime tell me why you weep."

"For you."

"For me? Art mad?"

"No; I am not mad. 'Tis you that were mad to open your purse before
him."

The mystery seemed to thicken, and Denys, wearied of stirring up the
mud by questions, held his peace to see if it would not clear of itself.
Then the girl, finding herself no longer questioned, seemed to go
through some internal combat. At last she said, doggedly and aloud, "I
will. The Virgin give me courage? What matters it if they kill me, since
he is dead? Soldier, the landlord is out."

"Oh, is he?"

"What, do landlords leave their taverns at this time of night? also
see what a tempest! We are sheltered here, but t'other side it blows a
hurricane."

Denys said nothing.

"He is gone to fetch the band."

"The band! what band?"

"Those who will cut your throat and take your gold. Wretched man; to go
and shake gold in an innkeeper's face!"

The blow came so unexpectedly it staggered even Denys, accustomed as he
was to sudden perils. He muttered a single word, but in it a volume.

"Gerard!"

"Gerard! What is that? Oh, 'tis thy comrade's name, poor lad. Get him
out quick ere they come; and fly to the next town."

"And thou?"

"They will kill me."

"That shall they not. Fly with us."

"'Twill avail me nought: one of the band will be sent to kill me. They
are sworn to slay all who betray them."

"I'll take thee to my native place full thirty leagues from hence, and
put thee under my own mother's wing, ere they shall hurt a hair o' thy
head. But first Gerard. Stay thou here whilst I fetch him!"

As he was darting off, the girl seized him convulsively, and with all
the iron strength excitement lends to women. "Stay me not! for pity's
sake," he cried; "'tis life or death."

"Sh!--sh!" whispered the girl, shutting his mouth hard with her hand,
and putting her pale lips close to him, and her eyes, that seemed to
turn backwards, straining towards some indistinct sound.

He listened.

He heard footsteps, many footsteps, and no voices. She whispered in his
ear, "They are come." And trembled like a leaf.

Denys felt it was so. Travellers in that number would never have come in
dead silence.

The feet were now at the very door.

"How many?" said he, in a hollow whisper.

"Hush!" and she put her mouth to his very ear. And who, that had seen
this man and woman in that attitude, would have guessed wha