There was an expression of surprise on his face.

His eyes closed, his knees bent forward, and he sank into the road a huddled heap.

The Prince shrugged, a sigh of relief fell from the Count's half-parted lips, while the innkeeper ran toward the fallen man.
"Are you hurt, Prince ?" asked the Count.
"The damned fool has blown off my elbow!" was the answer.

"Bind it up with your handkerchief, and help me on with my coat.

There is nothing more to do; if he is not dead he soon will be, so it's all the same." When the Prince's arm was sufficiently bandaged so as to stop the flow of blood, the Count assisted him to mount, jumped on his own horse, and the two cantered off, leaving the innkeeper, Hillars' head propped up on his knee, staring after them with a dull rage in his faded blue eyes.