nk we both forgot the
poor little candles, with their dull yellow gleam. However it was, the
young lady stepped back a pace, and her muslin cape, very light, and
fluttering with ruffles and lace, was in the candle, and ablaze in a
moment. I heard her cry, and saw the flame spring up around her; but it
was only a breath before I had the thing torn off, and was crushing it
together in my hands, and next trampling it under foot, treading out the
sparks, till it was naught but black tinder. A pretty cape it was, and a
sin to see it so destroyed. But I was not thinking of the cape then. I
had only eyes for the young lady herself; and when I saw her untouched,
save for the end of her curls singed, but pale and frightened, and
crying out that I was killed, there came a mist, it seemed, before my
face, and I dropped on the stone rail, and laughed.

"You are not burned, mademoiselle?"

"I? no, sir! I am not touched; but you--you? oh, your hands! You took it
in your hands, and they are destroyed! What shall I do?" Before I could
move she had caught my two hands in hers, and turned the palms up.
Indeed, they were only scorched, not burned deep, though they stung
smartly enough; but black they were, and the skin beginning to puff into
blisters. But now came the tap of a stick on the stone, and Mme. de
Lalange came hobbling out. "What is this?" she cried, seeing me standing
so, pale, it may be, with the young lady holding my blackened hands
still in hers.

"What is the meaning of this scene?"

"Its meaning?" cried Mlle. Valerie; and it was Yvon's self that flashed
upon her aunt.

"The meaning is that this gentleman has saved my life. Yes, my aunt!
Look as you please; if he had not been here, and a hero,--a _hero_,--I
should be devoured by the flames. Look!" and she pointed to the
fragments of muslin, which were floating off in black rags. "He caught
it from me, when I was in flames. He crushed it in his hands,--these
poor hands, which are destroyed, I tell you, with pain. What shall we
do,--what can we ever do, to thank him?"

The old lady looked from one to the other; her face was grim enough, but
her words were courteous.

"We are grateful, indeed, to monsieur!" she said. "The only thing we
can do for him, my niece, is to bind his hands with soothing ointment; I
will attend to this matter myself. You are agitated, Valerie, and I
advise you to go to your own room, and let Felice bring you a potion. If
M. D'Arthenay will fo