The cloth gave.

The pommel of the Chevalier's rapier hit him in the forehead, cutting and dazing him.

He rose, staggering, and indulged in a little profanity which made him eminently human.

One by one he gathered up the fallen garments and cloaks.

It was haphazard work: for now the floor was where the partition had been, and the ceiling where the bunk had stood.