He told me that now she was quiet, either praying or asleep, for he had left her as still as a babe in its cradle, her page watching her.

The bolt had sped by a rivet of her breast-piece, clean through her breast hard below the shoulder, and it stood a hand-breadth out beyond.

Then she had wept and trembled, seeing her own blood; but presently, with such might and courage as was marvel, she had dragged out the bolt with her own hands.

Then they had laid on the wound cotton steeped with olive oil, for she would not abide that they should steep the bolt with weapon salve and charm the hurt with a song, as the soldiers desired.

Then she had confessed herself to Pasquerel, and so had lain down among the grass and the flowers.