CHAPTER XXII. Perhaps he had lost his loved ones and was wandering over the world seeking forgetfulness. "They shall not harm you, my love!" she exclaimed. ‘That is the man who tries to kill me, but he wounded instead my servant. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. "Blueskin's a friend in need," he said. I can’t tell anyone certain things about my life. His exploits and escapes are in every body's mouth. Well, after a time there came a fever in my blood. How came you by the hurt, eh?" "How did I come by it?—that's a nate question.
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