whether you have hurt me or not," she said. "You men
of the North are too strong!"

"But they come. Run, Lucy, beloved!" I said.

CHAPTER XII

A NIGHT ASSAULT

And she melted into the night, swiftly as a bird goes. Then I became
aware of flying footsteps. It seemed that I had better not be found
there, lest I should compromise the Countess with her brother, and find
myself with a duel upon my hands in addition to my other embarrassments.
So I set my toes upon the little projections of the stone parapet,
taking advantage of the hooks which confined the creepers, and clutching
desperately with my hands, so that I scrambled to the top just as the
Count and Henry met below.

"Strike a light, Count," I heard Henry say; "I am sure I hit something.
I heard a cry."

A light flamed up. There was the rustling noise of the broad leaves of
the creeper being pushed aside.

"Here is blood!" cried Henry. "I was sure I hit something that time!"

His tone was triumphant.

"I tell you what it is, Monsieur," said the calm voice of the Count: "if
you go through the world banging off shots on the chance of shooting
white owls which you do not see, you are indeed likely to hit
something. But whether you will like it after it is hit, is another
matter."

Then I went indoors, for my arm was paining me. In my own room I eagerly
examined the wound. It was but slight. A pellet or two had grazed my arm
and ploughed their way along the thickness of the skin, but none had
entered deeply. So I wrapped my arm in a little lint and some old linen,
and went to bed.

I did not again see the Countess till noon on the morrow, when her
carriage was at the door and she tripped down the steps to enter.

The Count stood by it, holding the door for her to enter--I midway down
the broad flight of steps.

"Good-bye," she said, holding out her hand, from which she deftly drew
the glove. "We shall meet again."

"God grant it! I live for that!" said I, so low that the Count did not
hear, as I bent to kiss her hand. For in these months I had learned many
things.

At this moment Henry came up to say farewell, and he shook her hand with
boyish affectation of the true British indifference, which at that time
it was the correct thing for Englishmen to assume at parting.

"Nice boy!" said the Countess indulgently, looking up at me. The Count
bowed and smiled, and smiled and bowed, till the carriage drove out of
sight.

Then in a moment he t