Sir Henry was encamping the remains of his worn-out forces on the site (such is the fortune of war) that Sorais had occupied the night before, and proposed marching to M'Arstuna on the morrow.

Having heard this, I felt that I could die with a light heart, and then everything became a blank.
When next I awoke the first thing I saw was the round disc of a sympathetic eyeglass, behind which was Good.
'How are you getting on, old chap ?' said a voice from the neighbourhood of the eyeglass.
'What are you doing here ?' I asked faintly.

'You ought to be at M'Arstuna -- have you run away, or what ?' 'M'Arstuna,' he replied cheerfully.

'Ah, M'Arstuna fell last week -- you've been unconscious for a fortnight, you see -- with all the honours of war, you know -- trumpets blowing, flags flying, just as though they had had the best of it; but for all that, weren't they glad to go.

Israel made for his tents, I can tell you -- never saw such a sight in my life.' 'And Sorais ?' I asked.
'Sorais -- oh, Sorais is a prisoner; they gave her up, the scoundrels,' he added, with a change of tone -- 'sacrificed the Queen to save their skins, you see.