eings. Marius cried
out with a start:--

"You are wounded! Wait, I will carry you into the room! They will attend
to you there. Is it serious? How must I take hold of you in order not
to hurt you? Where do you suffer? Help! My God! But why did you come
hither?"

And he tried to pass his arm under her, in order to raise her.

She uttered a feeble cry.

"Have I hurt you?" asked Marius.

"A little."

"But I only touched your hand."

She raised her hand to Marius, and in the middle of that hand Marius saw
a black hole.

"What is the matter with your hand?" said he.

"It is pierced."

"Pierced?"

"Yes."

"What with?"

"A bullet."

"How?"

"Did you see a gun aimed at you?"

"Yes, and a hand stopping it."

"It was mine."

Marius was seized with a shudder.

"What madness! Poor child! But so much the better, if that is all, it is
nothing, let me carry you to a bed. They will dress your wound; one does
not die of a pierced hand."

She murmured:--

"The bullet traversed my hand, but it came out through my back. It is
useless to remove me from this spot. I will tell you how you can care
for me better than any surgeon. Sit down near me on this stone."

He obeyed; she laid her head on Marius' knees, and, without looking at
him, she said:--

"Oh! How good this is! How comfortable this is! There; I no longer
suffer."

She remained silent for a moment, then she turned her face with an
effort, and looked at Marius.

"Do you know what, Monsieur Marius? It puzzled me because you entered
that garden; it was stupid, because it was I who showed you that house;
and then, I ought to have said to myself that a young man like you--"

She paused, and overstepping the sombre transitions that undoubtedly
existed in her mind, she resumed with a heartrending smile:--

"You thought me ugly, didn't you?"

She continued:--

"You see, you are lost! Now, no one can get out of the barricade. It was
I who led you here, by the way! You are going to die, I count upon that.
And yet, when I saw them taking aim at you, I put my hand on the muzzle
of the gun. How queer it is! But it was because I wanted to die before
you. When I received that bullet, I dragged myself here, no one saw
me, no one picked me up, I was waiting for you, I said: 'So he is not
coming!' Oh, if you only knew. I bit my blouse, I suffered so! Now I am
well. Do you remember the day I entered your chamber and when I
looked at myself in your mirror, an