Twice I struck at it with my sword, cutting only the empty air.

A third time my blade was caught in the trellis of parasites.

It was horrible; I felt terrified to contend with such strange enemies.
At length, after a continued struggle, an opening appeared before me--a glade; I rushed to the welcome spot.
"What a relief!" I ejaculated, emerging from the leafy darkness.
Suddenly I started back with a cry of horror; my limbs refused to act; the sword fell from my grasp, and I stood palsied and transfixed, as if by a bolt from heaven.
Before me, and not over three paces distant, the image of Death himself rose out of the earth, and stretched forth his skeleton arms to clutch me.

It was no phantom.

There was the white, naked skull, with its eyeless sockets, the long, flesh-less limbs, the open, serrated ribs, the long, jointed fingers of Death himself.
As my bewildered brain took in these objects I heard a noise in the bushes as of persons engaged in an angry struggle.
"Emile, Emile!" cried a female voice, "you shall not murder him--you shall not!" "Off! off!--Marie, let me go!" was shouted in the rough accents of a man.
"Oh, no!" continued the female, "you shall not--no--no--no!" "Curses on the woman! There, let me go now!" There was a sound as of someone struck with violence--a scream--and at the same moment a human figure rushed out of the bushes, and, confronting me, exclaimed: "Ha! Monsieur le Capitaine! _coup pour coup_!" I heard no more; a heavy blow, descending upon my temples, deprived me of all power, and I fell senseless to the earth.