mocked him, showing him how ripe he was for hell, and asking
him how it felt to die unshriven with such a load upon his soul.

Goaded to rage by my bitter words, he grit his teeth, and gathered what
rags of strength were left him for a final effort, And before I knew
what he was about, he had dropped on to his left knee, and with his body
thrown forward and supported within a foot of the ground by his left
arm, he came, like a snake, under my guard with his point directed
upwards.

So swift had been this movement and so unlooked-for, that had I not
sprung backwards in the very nick of time, this narrative of mine had
ne'er been written. With a jeering laugh I knocked aside his sword, but
even as I disengaged, to thrust at him, he knelt up and caught my blade
in his left hand, and for all that it ate its way through the flesh to
the very bones of his fingers, he clung to it with that fierce strength
and blind courage that is born of despair.

Then raising himself on his knees again, he struck at me wildly. I swung
aside, and as his sword, missing its goal, shot past me, I caught his
wrist in a grip from which I contemptuously invited him to free himself.
With that began a fierce tugging and panting on both sides, which,
however, was of short duration, for presently, my blade, having severed
the last sinew of his fingers, was set free. Simultaneously I let go
his wrist, pushing his arm from me so violently that in his exhausted
condition it caused him to fall over on his side.

In an instant, however, he was up and at me again. Again our swords
clashed--but once only. It was time to finish. With a vigorous
disengagement I got past his feeble guard and sent my blade into him
full in the middle of his chest and out again at his back until a foot
or so of glittering steel protruded.

A shudder ran through him, and his mouth worked oddly, whilst
spasmodically he still sought, without avail, to raise his sword; then
as I recovered my blade, a half-stifled cry broke from his lips, and
throwing up his arms, he staggered and fell in a heap.

As I turned him over to see if he were dead, his eyes met mine, and were
full of piteous entreaty; his lips moved, and presently I caught the
words:

"I am sped, Luynes." Then struggling up, and in a louder voice: "A
priest!" he gasped. "Get me a priest, Luynes. Jesu! Have mer--"

A rush of blood choked him and cut short his utterance. He writhed and
twitched for a moment, then his c