the swords!" Then she went past him swiftly through the panel and the
outer door. She glanced around quickly, running, as she did so, with a
kind of blind instinct towards the clump of firs. Presently she saw a
little stream of light in the trees. Always a creature of abundant
energy and sprightliness, she swept through the night, from the comedy
behind to the tragedy in front; the grey starlight falling about her
white dress and making her hair seem like a cloud behind her as she ran.
Suddenly she came in on the two sworders with a scared, transfigured
face.

Iberville had his man at an advantage, and was making the most of it when
she came in at an angle behind the other, and the sight of her stayed his
arm. It was but for a breath, but it served. Gering had not seen, and
his sword ran up Iberville's arm, making a little trench in the flesh.

She ran in on them from the gloom, saying in a sharp, aching voice:
"Stop, stop! Oh, what madness!" The points dropped and they stepped
back. She stood between them, looking from one to the other. At that
moment Morris burst in also. "In God's name," he said, "is this your
honouring of the king's governor! Ye that have eat and drunk at his
table the night! Have ye nae sense o' your manhood, young gentlemen,
that for a mad gossip ower the wine ye wend into the dark to cut each
other's throats? Think--think shame, baith o' ye, being as ye are of
them that should know better."

Gering moodily put on his coat and held his peace. Iberville tossed his
sword aside, and presently wrung the blood from his white sleeve. The
girl saw him, and knew that he was wounded. She snatched a scarf from
her waist and ran towards him. "You are wounded," she said. "Oh, take
this!"