-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Вальтер Скотт
-
- Айвенго
-
- Стр. 226/364
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
But
scarce
was
this
done
ere
the
portentous
strength
of
the
Black
Knight
forced
his
way
inward
in
despite
of
De
Bracy
and
his
followers
.
Two
of
the
foremost
instantly
fell
,
and
the
rest
gave
way
notwithstanding
all
their
leader
's
efforts
to
stop
them
.
"
Dogs
!
"
said
De
Bracy
,
"
will
ye
let
TWO
men
win
our
only
pass
for
safety
?
"
"
He
is
the
devil
!
"
said
a
veteran
man-at-arms
,
bearing
back
from
the
blows
of
their
sable
antagonist
.
"
And
if
he
be
the
devil
,
"
replied
De
Bracy
,
"
would
you
fly
from
him
into
the
mouth
of
hell
?
--
the
castle
burns
behind
us
,
villains
!
--
let
despair
give
you
courage
,
or
let
me
forward
!
I
will
cope
with
this
champion
myself
"
And
well
and
chivalrous
did
De
Bracy
that
day
maintain
the
fame
he
had
acquired
in
the
civil
wars
of
that
dreadful
period
.
The
vaulted
passage
to
which
the
postern
gave
entrance
,
and
in
which
these
two
redoubted
champions
were
now
fighting
hand
to
hand
,
rung
with
the
furious
blows
which
they
dealt
each
other
,
De
Bracy
with
his
sword
,
the
Black
Knight
with
his
ponderous
axe
.
At
length
the
Norman
received
a
blow
,
which
,
though
its
force
was
partly
parried
by
his
shield
,
for
otherwise
never
more
would
De
Bracy
have
again
moved
limb
,
descended
yet
with
such
violence
on
his
crest
,
that
he
measured
his
length
on
the
paved
floor
.
"
Yield
thee
,
De
Bracy
,
"
said
the
Black
Champion
,
stooping
over
him
,
and
holding
against
the
bars
of
his
helmet
the
fatal
poniard
with
which
the
knights
dispatched
their
enemies
,
(
and
which
was
called
the
dagger
of
mercy
,
)
--
"
yield
thee
,
Maurice
de
Bracy
,
rescue
or
no
rescue
,
or
thou
art
but
a
dead
man
.
"
"
I
will
not
yield
,
"
replied
De
Bracy
faintly
,
"
to
an
unknown
conqueror
.
Tell
me
thy
name
,
or
work
thy
pleasure
on
me
--
it
shall
never
be
said
that
Maurice
de
Bracy
was
prisoner
to
a
nameless
churl
.
"
The
Black
Knight
whispered
something
into
the
ear
of
the
vanquished
.
"
I
yield
me
to
be
true
prisoner
,
rescue
or
no
rescue
,
"
answered
the
Norman
,
exchanging
his
tone
of
stern
and
determined
obstinacy
for
one
of
deep
though
sullen
submission
.
"
Go
to
the
barbican
,
"
said
the
victor
,
in
a
tone
of
authority
,
"
and
there
wait
my
further
orders
.
"
