Sometimes a rapid pass encountered only empty air; sometimes blade crossed blade above the wielders' heads; sometimes the fencers lunged at each other's breast, and yet the blows glanced aside at the last moment and the blades met in air once more.

At last, however, one of the two, making a pass to the right which left his breast unguarded, received a deep wound.

Uttering a loud cry, he recoiled a step or two, but, exhausted by the effort, tripped and fell backward over a large stone, and lay there motionless, his arms extended in the form of a cross.
The other turned and fled.
"Hark, de Jars!" said Jeannin, stopping, "There's fighting going on hereabouts; I hear the clash of swords." Both listened intently.
"I hear nothing now." "Hush! there it goes again.

It's by the church." "What a dreadful cry!" They ran at full speed towards the place whence it seemed to come, but found only solitude, darkness, and silence.

They looked in every direction.
"I can't see a living soul," said Jeannin, "and I very much fear that the poor devil who gave that yell has mumbled his last prayer." "I don't know why I tremble so," replied de Jars; "that heart-rending cry made me shiver from head to foot.