He was completely undone with fright, his heart melted and his knees
bent.
"And would it not be thy meed to run thee through also, for serving
thy wounded knave with a kick? 'twas inhuman--by God! 'tis a pity it
takes a man with a soul to suffer the tortures of hell, for thou wilt
never get thy deserts!" He looked down and saw the poor servant's eyes
raised to his pleadingly. The Duke drew from his pocket a flask of
wine and gave it to him; then gathered the bags that lay filled by the
chest and hurriedly looked at their contents. As he did so the wounded
knave feebly raised his voice,--
"I will be killed if I am found here."
"Nay, a gentleman--" and he cast a scornful glance at
Cantemir,--"would not kick thee when thou art down; say nothing of
our most noble fathers putting to flight what small life thou hast in
thee. What is thy name?"
"Christopher," came in weakened tones from his pallid lips.
In another moment the Duke was gone with his looted treasures.
He flew along at a most undignified gait, bearing his pack as a
labourer.
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