Voices rang above me; someone stooped and strove to pluck me from my
victim; then below the left shoulder I felt a sting of pain, first cold
then hot, and I knew that I had been stabbed.
Again I felt the blade thrust in, lower down and driven deeper; then, as
the knife was for the second time withdrawn, and my flesh sucked at the
steel,--the pain of it sending a shudder through me,--the instinct of
preservation overcame the sweet lust to strangle Vilmorin. I let him go
and, staggering to my feet, I turned to face those murderers who struck a
defenceless man behind.
Swords gleamed around me: one, two, three, four, five, six, I counted, and
stood weak and dazed from loss of blood, gazing stupidly at the white
blades. Had I but had my sword I should have laid about me, and gone down
beneath their blows as befits a soldier. But the absence of that trusty
friend left me limp and helpless--cowed for the first time since I had
borne arms.
Of a sudden I became aware that St. Auban stood opposite to me, hand on
hip, surveying me with a malicious leer. As our eyes met--"So, master
meddler," quoth he mockingly, "you crow less lustily than is your wont.
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