He strung his bow, but he could not fit the arrow to the string, he missed the notch, so much did his hands shake.

He motioned to the retainers who had gathered around, and one of them thrust his spear into the horse behind his shoulder.
When Felix at last returned to his chamber he could not but reflect, as the sun rose and the beams entered, that every omen had been against him; the adder under foot, the bandit's bolt, the Bushman's poisoned point.

He slept till noon, and, upon going out, unrefreshed and still weary, he found that they had already buried the horse, and ordered a mound to be raised above his grave.

The day passed slowly; he wandered about the castle and the enclosed grounds, seeking comfort and finding none.

His mind vacillated; he recalled all that Aurora had said, persuading him not to do anything in haste or despair.