This fall saved him, for the horsemen passed over him. "Shall I never see that sweet face again,—never feel the pressure of those kind hands more—nor listen to that gentle voice! Ah! yes, we shall meet again in Heaven, where I shall speedily join you. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter. Certain phases of irony always caused him to chuckle audibly. My wife—killed me. ‘Then mayhap this will persuade you!’ With a scrape of steel, he drew his sword from its scabbard. “It means that I have had enough of this slavery,” she declared.
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