For a few moments Gil's men and the followers of Sir Mark stood appalled
by the effects of the explosion. Fully one-half had been prostrated by
the terrible blast that had swept the beautiful old garden, cutting down
tree and shrub as level as if with a knife. Some of the men lay
groaning where they had been cast, burned, wounded, and disfigured;
while those who were uninjured, of whichever side, seemed as if by
mutual consent to consider their petty strife at an end in the face of
so awful a catastrophe, and, sheathing their swords, stood looking at
the ruined house before them, confused and unmanned by the shock.
For to a man the explosion had so shaken them that a curious feeling of
helplessness had succeeded to the energy they had displayed, and no one
moved even to render assistance to the wounded.