"Oh, sir, I beg of you . . . my friend is ill." The shorter lady had fallen on the grass in a dead faint. He retraced his steps and, anxiously: "She is not wounded?" he asked. "Did those scoundrels . . ." "No . . . no . . . it's only the fright . . . the excitement. . . . Besides you will understand . . . the lady is Mrs. Kesselbach. . . ." "Oh!" he said. He produced a bottle of smelling-salts, which the younger woman at once applied to her friend's nostrils. And he added: "Lift the amethyst that serves as a stopper. . . . You will see a little box containing some tabloids. Give madame one of them . . . one, no more . . . they are very strong. . . ." He watched the young woman helping her friend. She was fair-haired, very simply dressed; and her face was gentle and grave, with a smile that lit up her features even when she was not smiling. "That is Geneviève," he thought. And he repeated with emotion, "Geneviève . . . Geneviève. . . ." Meanwhile, Mrs. Kesselbach gradually recovered consciousness. She was astonished at first, seemed not to understand. Then, her memory returning, she thanked her deliverer with a movement of the head. He made a deep bow and said: "Allow me to introduce myself. . . . I am Prince Sernine. . . ." She said, in a faint voice: "I do not know how to express my gratitude." "By not expressing it at all, madame. You must thank chance, the chance that turned my steps in this direction. May I offer you my arm?" A few minutes later, Mrs. Kesselbach rang at the door of the House of Retreat and said to the prince: "I will ask one more service of you, monsieur. Do not speak of this assault." "And yet, madame, it would be the only way of finding out . . ." "Any attempt to find out would mean an inquiry; and that would involve more noise and fuss about me, examinations, fatigue; and I am worn out as it is." The prince did not insist. Bowing to her, he asked: "Will you allow me to call and ask how you are?" "Oh, certainly. . . ." She kissed Geneviève and went indoors. Meantime, night was beginning to fall. Sernine would not let Geneviève return alone. But they had hardly entered the path, when a figure, standing out against the shadow, hastened toward them. "Grandmother!" cried Geneviève. She threw herself into the arms of an old woman, who covered her with kisses: "Oh, my darling, my darling, what has happened? How late you are! . . . And you are always so punctual!" Geneviève introduced the prince: "Prince Sernine . . . Mme. Ernemont, my grandmother. . . ." Then she related the incident, and Mme. Ernemont repeated: "Oh, my darling, how frightened you must have been! . . . I shall never forget your kindness, monsieur, I assure you. . . . But how frightened you must have been, my poor darling!" "Come, granny, calm yourself, as I am here. . . ." "Yes, but the fright may have done you harm. . . . One never knows the consequences. . . . Oh, it's horrible! . . ."