Then he looked, and true enough there stood two figures faintly outlined in the gloom.

They glided towards them, and now the level moonlight shone upon their white robes and gleamed in the gems they wore.
"I cannot see them," said a voice.

"Oh, those dead soldiers--what do they portend ?" "At least yonder stand their horses," answered another voice.
Now the brethren guessed the truth, and, like men in a dream, stepped forward from the shadow of the wall.
"Rosamund!" they said.
"Oh Godwin! oh Wulf!" she cried in answer.

"Oh, Jesu, I thank Thee, I thank Thee--Thee, and this brave woman!" and, casting her arms about Masouda, she kissed her on the face.
Masouda pushed her back, and said, in a voice that was almost harsh: "It is not fitting, Princess, that your pure lips should touch the cheek of a woman of the Assassins." But Rosamund would not be repulsed.
"It is most fitting," she sobbed, "that I should give you thanks who but for you must also have become 'a woman of the Assassins,' or an inhabitant of the House of Death." Then Masouda kissed her back, and, thrusting her away into the arms of Wulf, said roughly: "So, pilgrims Peter and John, your patron saints have brought you through so far; and, John, you fight right well.

Nay, do not stop for our story, if you wish us to live to tell it.