But he parried it, not with his blade, but with the haft, and the heavy weapon of his antagonist severed his smaller fingers. With this there fell to the ground the sword and the amputated fingers; that tinged with blood, these livid and convulsed.
“Now, yes, I have lost,” exclaimed the wounded man with a gesture of grief.
“Yes, friend,” replied Roque, filled with consternation. “What need was there of this?”
“It is a thing of bad luck; who may gain may lose. You have proved me a man; you cannot deny that.”
“How have I to deny it? The truth is that you have much courage. Let me bind your hand with this cloth to see if the blood can be staunched.”
Saying this Roque wrapped