Then it was as if all the devils in Pandemonium had chosen Normandy for their playground; and what took place in the night no man saw for the darkness, so that I cannot tell you of it. Let it suffice that Adhelmar rode away before d'Andreghen had rubbed sleep well out of his eyes; and with Adhelmar were Hugues d'Arques and some half of Adhelmar's men. The rest were dead, and Adhelmar was badly hurt, for he had burst open his old wound and it was bleeding under his armor. Of this he said nothing.
"Hugues," said he, "do you and these fellows ride to the coast; thence take ship for England."
He would have none of Hugues' thanks; instead, he turned and left Hugues to whimper out his gratitude to the skies, which spat a warm, gusty rain at him. Adhelmar rode again to Puysange, and as he went he sang.
"D'Andreghen in Normandy Went forth to slay mine enemy; But as he went Lord God for me wrought marvellously;
"Wherefore, I may call and cry That am now about to die, 'I am content!'
"Domine! Domine! Gratias accipe! Et meum animum Recipe in coelum_!"
When he had come to Puysange, Adhelmar climbed the stairs of the White Turret,--slowly, for he was growing very feeble now,--and so came again to Mélite crouching among the burned-out candles in the slate-colored twilight which heralded dawn.
"He is safe," said Adhelmar. He told Mélite how Hugues was rescued and shipped to England, and how, if she would, she might straightway follow him in a fishing-boat. "For there is likely to be ugly work at Puysange," Adhelmar said, "when the marshal comes. And he will come."
"But what will you do now, my cousin?" asked Mélite.
"Holy Ouen!" said Adhelmar; "since I needs must die, I will die in France, not in the cold land of England."
"Die!" cried Mélite. "Are you hurt so sorely, then?"
He grinned like a death's-head. "My injuries are not incurable," said he, "yet must I die very quickly, for all that. The English King will hang me if I go thither, as he has sworn to do these eight years, because of that matter of Almerigo di Pavia: and if I stay in France, I must hang because of this night's work."
Mélite wept. "O God! O God!" she quavered, two or three times, like one hurt in the throat. "And you have done this for me! Is there no way to save you, Adhelmar?" she pleaded, with wide, frightened eyes that were like a child's.