. .
At daybreak Marc'antonio and Stephanu came down the pass and found me
digging the grave. I thought at first that they intended me some
harm, for their faces were ill-humoured enough in all conscience; but
they carried each a spade, and after growling a salutation, set down
their guns and struck in to help me with my work.
We had been digging, maybe, for twenty minutes, and in silence, when
my ear caught the sound of furious grunting from the sty, where I had
penned the hogs overnight, a little before sundown. Nat had watched
me as I numbered them, and it seemed now so long ago that I glanced
up with a start almost guilty, as though in my grief I had neglected
the poor brutes for days. In fact I had kept them in prison for a
short hour beyond their usual time, and some one even now was
liberating them.
It was the Princess, of whose presence I had not been aware.
She stood by the gate of the pen, her head and shoulders in sunlight,
while the hogs raced in shadow past her feet.
Marc'antonio glanced at her across his shoulder and growled angrily.
"Your pardon, Princess," said I, slowly, as she closed the gate after
the last of the hogs and came forward.
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