Now they were on the edge of the abyss, and, in that last dread strain for mastery, seemed to stand there still as stone.

Then one man began to bend down.

See! his head hung over.

Further and further he bent, but his arms could not be loosened.
"They will both go!" cried the multitude in their joy.
Look! A dagger flashed.

Once, twice, thrice it gleamed, and those wrestlers fell apart, while from deep down in the gulf came the thud of a fallen body.
"Which--oh, which ?" cried Rosamund from her battlement.
"Sir Hugh Lozelle," answered Godwin in a solemn voice.
Then the head of Rosamund fell forward on her breast, and for a while she seemed to sleep.
Wulf went to his horse, turned it about on the bridge, and throwing his arm around its neck, rested for a space.