With his pocket knife he ripped away the coat from the great chest and then tore open the shirt.

On the expanse of the hairy chest there was one spot from which the purple blood welled; a deadly place for a wound, and yet the bleeding showed that there must still be life.
He had no chance to bind the wound, for John Bard opened his eyes again and said, as if in his dream he had still continued his tale to Anthony.
"So that's all the story, lad.

Do you forgive me ?" "For what, sir?
In God's name, for what ?" "Damnation! Tell me; do you forgive John Bard ?" He did not hear the answer, for he murmured: "Even Joan would forgive," and died..