I
have done you wrong before; but I pray you forgive me, and bear no
malice; for I am yours till death. Never was woman so brave."
"I should be wrong indeed to bear malice against any, my good
friend," spoke the Maid, in her gentle tones, "above all against
one so courteous, so brave."
We lifted her upon the horse. We formed a bodyguard round her. We
drew her out of the thick of the press, for once unresisting; and
we laid her down in a little adjacent vineyard, where the good
Pasquerel came instantly, and knelt beside her offering prayers for
her recovery. But the great arrow had pierced right through her
shoulder, and stood out a handbreadth upon the other side. We had
sent for a surgeon; but we dreaded to think of the pain she must
suffer; must be suffering even now. Her face was white; her brow
was furrowed.
But suddenly, as we stood looking at her in dismay, she sat up,
took firm hold of the cruel barb with her own hands, and drew it
steadily from the wound.
Was ever courage like hers? As the blood came gushing forth,
staining her white armour red, she uttered a little cry and her
lips grew pale.
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