e discomfited AEsop, towards the bridge. Nevers, nearer to
the castle, struck down in quick succession two of the ruffians that were
rash enough to stand their ground, and stood for the moment alone and
unassailed, the master of his part of the field.

Noiselessly behind him the little postern of Caylus opened. Noiselessly
two shadows emerged, both masked and both holding drawn swords. Though it
was still all blackness under the walls of the castle, there was now a
little light in the sky, where a pale moon swam like a golden ship
through wave after wave of engulfing cloud. The pair paused for a moment,
as if to make sure that indeed their auxiliaries were being routed. Then
the foremost shadow glided quietly close to Nevers, where he stood
flushed with victory.

"I am here!" Nevers cried, exulting, as he waved his conquering sword and
looked in vain for an antagonist.

"I am here!" repeated the shadow behind him, mockingly, and thrust his
weapon deep into the victor's side. Nevers reeled before the suddenness
and sureness of the stroke, and fell on his knees to the ground with a
great cry that startled Lagardere and stayed him in his triumph. Nevers,
striving to rise, turned his face against his treacherous enemy, and
seemed to recognize the shadow in spite of its masked visage.

"You!" he gasped--"you, for whom I would have given my life!"

"Well, I take it," the shadow whispered, grimly, and stabbed him again.
Nevers fell in a huddle to the earth, but he raised his dying breath in a
cry.

"Help, Lagardere! help! Save the child! Avenge me!"

Then he died. Though the assassin stabbed again, he only stabbed a
corpse. Lagardere, who was brooming his foes before him as a gardener
brooms autumnal leaves from grass, had been arrested in his course by the
first cry of the wounded Nevers. While he paused, his antagonists,
rallying a little and heartened by their numbers, made ready for a fresh
attack. Then, swiftly, came Nevers's last wild call for help, and
Lagardere, with a great fear and a great fury in his heart, turned from
the steps leading to the bridge and made to join his comrade. But the
clustering swordsmen heard that cry, too, and found new courage in the
sound. It meant that one of the demi-gods with whom, as it seemed, they
were warring, was now no more than common clay, and that there was good
hope of ending the other. They came together; they came upon Lagardere;
they strove to stay him in his way. They