He thought of the vow he had registered long years ago in his heart, to live or to die in the service of his prince; and though what he might be called upon to suffer might be far worse than death itself, his will stood firm, and he gave no sign of yielding.

The man, who would have stood his friend if he would have spoken, looked keenly at him, and then turned away with a slight shrug of the shoulders, and Simon's triumphant and malicious face was looking into his.
"Now, lad, once more: will you speak, or will you not?
It is the last time I shall ask you." "I will tell you nothing," answered Paul, raising his head and looking at his old enemy with a contempt and lofty scorn which seemed to sting the man to greater fury.
"You will not! very good.

You will be glad enough to speak before I have done with you.

I have many old scores to settle with you yet, and so has the Chief when he comes back; but the first thing is to wring from you where the prince is hiding himself.
"Strip off his fine riding dress and under tunic, lads (it is a pity to spoil good clothes that may be useful to our own brave fellows), and string him up to that beam.
"Get out your hide whips, Peter and Joe, and lay it on well till I tell you to stop." With a brutal laugh, as if it were all some excellent joke, the men threw themselves upon Paul, and proceeded to carry out the instructions of their leader, who seated himself with a smile of triumph where he could enjoy the spectacle of the suffering he intended to inflict.

Paul's upper garments were quickly removed, and his hands and feet tightly bound with leather thongs.