I walked a few paces, and then I made out that the spark in front was a lantern.
My eyes were getting used to the half-light, and I saw what was beside the lantern.

Laputa knelt on the ashes of the fire which the Keeper had kindled three days before.

He knelt before, and half leaned on, a rude altar of stone.

The lantern stood by him on the floor, and its faint circle lit something which I was not unprepared for.

Blood was welling from his side, and spreading in a dark pool over the ashes.
I had no fear, only a great pity--pity for lost romance, for vain endeavour, for fruitless courage.