Auriol | Page 3

of the youth had regained its original
expression, the gatekeeper could not help being struck by its extreme
beauty. The face was a perfect oval, with regular and delicate features.
A short silken moustache covered the upper lip, which was short and
proud, and a pointed beard terminated the chin. The hair was black,
glossy, and cut short, so as to disclose a highly intellectual expanse of
brow.
The youth's figure was slight, but admirably proportioned His attire
consisted of a black satin doublet, slashed with white, hose of black silk,
and a short velvet mantle. His eyes were still closed, and it was difficult
to say what effect they might give to the face when they lighted it up;
but notwithstanding its beauty, it was impossible not to admit that a
strange, sinister, and almost demoniacal expression pervaded the
countenance.
All at once, and with as much suddenness as his cure had been effected,
the young man started, uttering a piercing cry, and placed his hand to
his side.
"Caitiff!" he cried, fixing his blazing eyes on the gatekeeper, "why do
you torture me thus? Finish me at once -- Oh!"
And overcome by anguish, he sank back again.
"I have not touched you, sir," replied Baldred. "I brought you here to
succour you. You will be easier anon. Doctor Lamb must have wiped
the halberd," he added to himself.
Another sudden change. The pain fled from the sufferer's countenance,
and he became easy as before.
"What have you done to me?" he asked, with a look of gratitude; "the

torture of my wound has suddenly ceased, and I feel as if a balm had
been dropped into it, Let me remain in this state if you have any pity --
or despatch me, for my late agony was almost insupportable."
"You are cared for by one who has greater skill than any surgeon in
London," replied Baldred. "If I can manage to transport you to his
lodgings, he will speedily heal your wounds."
"Do not delay, then," replied Auriol, faintly; "for though I am free from
pain, I feel that my life is ebbing fast away.
"Press this handkerchief to your side, and lean on me." said Baldred.
"Doctor Lamb's dwelling is but a step from the gateway -- in fact, the
first house on the bridge. By the way, the doctor declares he is your
kinsman."
"It is the first I ever heard of him," replied Auriol, faintly; "but take me
to him quickly, or it will be too late."
In another moment they were at the doctor's door. Baldred tapped
against it, and the summons was instantly answered by a diminutive
personage, clad in a jerkin of coarse grey serge, and having a leathern
apron tied round his waist. This was Flapdragon.
Blear-eyed, smoke-begrimed, lantern-jawed, the poor dwarf seemed as
if his whole life had been spent over the furnace. And so, in fact, it had
been. He had become little better than a pair of human bellows. In his
hand he held the halberd with which Auriol had been wounded.
"So you have been playing the leech., Flapdragon, eh?" cried Baldred. .
"Ay, marry have I," replied the dwarf, with a wild grin, and displaying
a wolfish set of teeth, "My master ordered me to smear the halberd with
the sympathetic ointment. I obeyed him; rubbed the steel point, first on
one side, then on the other; next wiped it; and then smeared it again."
"Whereby you put the patient to exquisite pain," replied Baldred; "but
help me to transport him to the laboratory'."

"I know not if the doctor will care to be disturbed," said Flapdragon.
"He is busily engaged on a grand operation."
"I will take the risk on myself," said Baldred. "The youth will die if he
remains here. See, he has fainted already!"
Thus urged, the dwarf laid down the halberd, and between the two,
Auriol was speedily conveyed up a wide oaken staircase to the
laboratory. Doctor Lamb was plying the bellows at the furnace, on
which a large alembic was placed, and he was so engrossed by his task,
that he scarcely noticed the entrance of the others.
"Place the youth on the ground, and rear his head against the chair," he
cried, hastily, to the dwarf. "Bathe his brows with the decoction in that
crucible. I will attend to him anon. Come to me on the morrow, Baldred,
and I will repay thee for thy trouble. I am busy now."
"These relics, doctor," cried the gatekeeper, glancing at the bag, which
was lying on the ground, and from which a bald head extruded -- "I
ought to take them back with me."
"Heed them not -- they will be safe in my keeping," cried Doctor Lamb,
impatiently; "tomorrow -- tomorrow."