Historical Tales, Vol. 4 (of 15) - The Romance of Reality by Charles Morris
page 75 of 314 (23%)
page 75 of 314 (23%)
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"Only two of us, out of all that gallant company!" said one of these in
despairing tones. "Who are you, friend and comrade?" "I am a nobleman, Godfrey, the son of Gilbert de L'Aigle. And you?" he asked. "I am Berold, a poor butcher of Rouen," was the answer. "God be merciful to us both!" they then cried together. Immediately afterwards they saw a third, who had risen and was swimming towards them. As he drew near he pushed the wet, clinging hair from his face, and they saw the white, agonized countenance of Fitzstephen. He gazed at them with eager eyes; then cast a long, despairing look on the waters around him. "Where is the prince?" he asked, in tones that seemed to shudder with terror. "Gone! gone!" they cried. "Not one of all on board, except we three, has risen above the water." "Woe! woe, to me!" moaned Fitzstephen. He ceased swimming, turned to them a face ghastly with horror, and then sank beneath the waves, to join the goodly company whom his negligence had sent to a watery death. He dared not live to meet the father of his charge. The two continued to cling to their support. But the water had in it the November chill, the night was long, the tenderly-reared nobleman lacked the endurance of his humbler companion. Before day-dawn he said, in |
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