The Bright Face of Danger. Robert Neilson Stephens

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СКАЧАТЬ I could indeed use my head intelligently, and command my motions so well, at a time of such excitement. We grew hot, perspired, breathed fast and loud, kept our muscles tense, and held each other with glittering eyes as we moved about on firm but springy feet. We must have fought very swiftly, for the ring of the steel sounded afterward in my ears as if it had been almost continuous. How long we kept it up, I do not exactly know. We came to panting more deeply, and I felt a little tired, and once or twice a mist was before my eyes. At last he gave me a great start by running his point through my shirt sleeve above the elbow. Feeling myself so nearly stung, I instinctively made a long swift thrust: up went his dagger, but too late: my blade passed clear of it, sank into his left breast. He gave a sharp little cry, and fell, and the hole I had made in his shirt was quickly circled with crimson.

      "Victory!" thought I, with an exultant sense of prowess. I had fleshed my sword and brought low my man! But, as I looked down at him and he lay perfectly still, another feeling arose. I knelt and felt for his heart: my new fear was realized. With bitter regret I gazed at him. All the anger and scorn had gone out of his face: it was now merely the handsome boyish face of a youth like myself, expressing only a manly pride and the pain and surprise of his last moment. It was horrible to think that I had stopped this life for ever, reduced this energy and beauty to eternal silence and nothingness. A weakness overwhelmed me, a profound pity and self-reproach.

      I heard a low ejaculation behind me, which made me start. But I saw it was only Nicolas, who, in spite of my orders, had stolen after me, in terror of what might happen.

      "Oh, heaven!" he groaned, as he stared with pale face and scared eyes at the prostrate form. "You have killed him, Monsieur Henri."

      "Yes. It is a great pity. After all, he merely thought a little too well of himself and was a little inconsiderate of other people's feelings. But who is not so, more or less? Poor young man!"

      "Ah, but think of us, Monsieur Henri—think of yourself, I mean! We had better be going, or you will have to answer for this."

      "That is so. We must settle with the landlord and get away from this town before this gentleman is missed."

      "And alas! you arranged to stay all night. The landlord will be sure to smell something. Come, I beg of you: there's not a moment to lose. Think what there's to do—the bag to fetch down, the horse and mule to saddle. We shall be lucky if the officers aren't after us before we're out of the town."

      "You are right.—Poor young man! At least I will cover his face with his doublet before I go."

      "I'll do that, Monsieur. You put on your own doublet, and save time."

      I did so. As Nicolas ran past me with the slain man's doublet, something fell out of the pocket of it. This proved to be a folded piece of paper, like a letter, but with no name outside. I picked it up. Fancying it might give a clue to my victim's identity, and as the seal was broken, I opened it. There was some writing, in the hand of a woman—two lines only:

      "For heaven's sake and pity's, come to me at once. My life and honour depend on you alone."

      As the missive was without address, so was it without signature. It must have been delivered by some confidential messenger who knew the recipient, and yet by whom a verbal message was either not thought expedient, or required to be confirmed by the written appeal. The recipient must be familiar with the sender's handwriting. The note looked fresh and clean, and therefore must have been very lately received.

      "Come, Monsieur Henri," called Nicolas, breaking in upon my whirling thoughts. "Why do you wait?—What is the matter? What do you see on that paper?"

      "And this," I answered, though of course Nicolas could not understand me, "is the business he was on! This is why he had need to put ground behind him. He was going on to-night. He must have stopped only to refresh his horses."

      "Yes, certainly, but what of that? What has his business to do with us?"

      "I have prevented his carrying it out. My God!—a woman's life and honour—a woman who relies on him—and now she will wait for him in vain! At this very moment she may be counting the hours till he should arrive!—What have I done?"

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