Then, when he had gotten to his feet, I went at him again, he
staggering back, guarding wildly; I cut at his head; he put his sword
up confusedly, so I fitted both hands to my hilt, and smote him
mightily under the arm: then his shriek mingled with my shout, made a
strange sound together; he rolled over and over, dead, as I thought.

I walked about the hall in great exultation at first, striking my
sword point on the floor every now and then, till I grew faint with
loss of blood; then I went to my enemy and stripped off some of his
clothes to bind up my wounds withal; afterwards I found in a corner
bread and wine, and I eat and drank thereof.

Then I went back to him, and looked, and a thought struck me, and I
took some of his paints and brushes, and kneeling down, painted his
face thus, with stripes of yellow and red, crossing each other at
right angles; and in each of the squares so made I put a spot of
black, after the manner of the painted letters in the prayer-books and
romances when they are ornamented.

So I stood back as painters use, folded my arms, and admired my own
handiwork. Yet there struck me as being something so utterly doleful
in the man's white face, and the blood running all about him, and
washing off the stains of paint from his face and hands, and splashed
clothes, that my heart mis- gave me, and I hoped that he was not dead;
I took some water from a vessel he had been using for his painting,
and, kneeling, washed his face.

Was it some resemblance to my father's dead face, which I had seen
when I was young, that made me pity him? I laid my hand upon his
heart, and felt it beating feebly; so I lifted him up gently, and