and
gazing on the scene with increased interest, I saw Maignan, who had
dismounted, stoop over something on the ground, and again after an
interval stand upright.

But Fresnoy did not rise. Nor was it without awe that, guessing what had
happened to him, I remembered how he had used this very horse to befool
me; how heartlessly he had abandoned Matthew, its owner; and by what
marvellous haps--which men call chances--Providence had brought it to
this place, and put it in his heart to choose it out of a score which
stood ready to his hand!

I was right. The man's neck was broken. He was quite dead. Maignan
passed the word to one, and he to another, and so it reached me on the
hill. It did not fail to awaken memories both grave and wholesome.
I thought of St. Jean d'Angely, of Chize, of the house in the Ruelle
d'Arcy; then in the midst of these reflections I heard voices, and
turned to find mademoiselle, with M. d'Agen behind me.

Her hand was still bandaged, and her dress, which she had not changed
since leaving Blois, was torn and stained with mud. Her hair was in
disorder; she walked with a limp. Fatigue and apprehension had stolen
the colour from her cheeks, and in a word she looked, when I turned, so
wan and miserable that for a moment I feared the plague had seized her.

The instant, however, that she caught sight of me a wave of colour
invaded, not her cheeks only, but her brow and neck. From her hair
to the collar of her gown she was all crimson. For a second she stood
gazing at me, and then, as I saluted her, she sprang forward. Had I not
stepped back she would have taken my hands.

My heart so overflowed with joy at this sight, that in the certainty her
blush gave me I was fain to toy with my happiness. All jealousy of M.
d'Agen was forgotten; only I thought it well not to alarm her by telling
her what I knew of the Bruhls. 'Mademoiselle,' I said earnestly, bowing,
but retreating from her, 'I thank God for your escape. One of your
enemies lies helpless here, and another is dead yonder.'

'It is not of my enemies I am thinking,' she answered quickly, 'but of
God, of whom you rightly remind me; and then of my friends.'

'Nevertheless,' I answered as quickly, 'I beg you will not stay to thank
them now, but go down to the wood with M. d'Agen, who will do all that
may be possible to make you comfortable.'

'And you, sir?' she said, with a charming air of confusion.

'I must stay here,' I answered, 'for a whil