“Could hold it.  We have strength enough for that,” the Norman boasted, though his livid face and his bandages gave the lie to his words.  He could not move without pain; and for Badelon, his knee was as big as two with plaisters of his own placing.

Count Hannibal stared at the ceiling.  “You could not strike two blows!” he said.  “Don’t lie to me!  And Badelon cannot walk two yards!  Fine fighters!” he continued with bitterness, not all bitter.  “Fine bars ’twixt a man and death!  No, it is time to turn the face to the wall.  And, since go I must, it shall not be said Count Hannibal dared not go alone!  Besides—­”

Bigot stopped him with an oath that was in part a cry of pain.

“D—–­n her!” he exclaimed in fury, “’tis she is that besides!  I know it.  ’Tis she has been our ruin from the day we saw her first, ay, to this day!  ’Tis she has bewitched you until your blood, my lord, has turned to water.  Or you would never, to save the hand that betrayed us, never to save a man—­”

“Silence!” Count Hannibal cried, in a terrible voice.  And rising on his elbow, he poised the dagger as if he would hurl it.  “Silence, or I will spit you like the vermin you are!  Silence, and listen!  And you, old ban-dog, listen too, for I know you obstinate!  It is not to save him.  It is because I will die as I have lived, fearing nothing and asking nothing!  It were easy to bar the door as you would have me, and die in the corner here like a wolf at bay, biting to the last.  That were easy, old wolf-hound!  Pleasant and good sport!”

“Ay!  That were a death!” the veteran cried, his eyes brightening.  “So I would fain die!”

“And I!” Count Hannibal returned, showing his teeth in a grim smile.  “I too!  Yet I will not!  I will not!  Because so to die were to die unwillingly, and give them triumph.  Be dragged to death?  No, old dog, if die we must, we will go to death!  We will die grandly, highly, as becomes Tavannes!  That when we are gone they may say, ’There died a man!’”

“She may say!” Bigot muttered, scowling.

Count Hannibal heard and glared at him, but presently thought better of it, and after a pause—­

“Ay, she too!” he said.  “Why not?  As we have played the game—­for her—­so, though we lose, we will play it to the end; nor because we lose throw down the cards!  Besides, man, die in the corner, die biting, and he dies too!”

“And why not?” Bigot asked, rising in a fury.  “Why not?  Whose work is it we lie here, snared by these clowns of fisherfolk?  Who led us wrong and betrayed us?  He die?  Would the devil had taken him a year ago!  Would he were within my reach now!  I would kill him with my bare fingers!  He die?  And why not?”