Nearly all the prisoners had been injured in the conflict, and carried some grim evidences of the strife. Those whose wounds were serious wore such blood-stained bandages, dressings and slings as they had been able to improvise; but for the most part the wounds were undressed, and the men appeared just as they had been taken, with hair and faces grimed with blood and dirt, and clothes torn and jagged by the soldiers’ weapons, making a gruesome sight, which moved Lucette alternately to shrinking repulsion and tender pity. “There must have been terrible fighting,” she said to Pascal, for they knew nothing of what had passed, and had been told merely that they were to be tried immediately, with the rest of the prisoners, for their share in the day’s work. “I wonder what has happened.” “We can find that out; I will question some of the men,” he replied. “But I would rather know what is going to happen.” “I am afraid we shall find that out too quite as quickly as we wish;” and Lucette glanced nervously about her at the men who were guarding the prisoners. She gave a little shiver of fear as her eyes fell on the Governor’s seat, and speculated anxiously what the ceremonious and somewhat terrifying preparations boded to them all. From that her gaze passed to the soldiers gathered about the daïs, whom she scrutinized closely; and just as Pascal returned from questioning their fellow-prisoners, she uttered an exclamation of surprise and pleasure. “Monsieur Pascal,” she whispered eagerly, “there is Captain Dubois.” “Dubois? Where?” “There, among the soldiers on the right of the Governor’s seat: thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth--yes, fifteenth in the second row, counting from the daïs to the right. I am sure it’s he. Do you see him?” “See him? I see more than him. Every man in the ranks there is ours, and Bassot himself is in command. We shall see something before we are many hours older, or I am no Bourbon.” “Where can Gabrielle be? And M. Gerard?” “So far as I gather, he is a prisoner; but the men here know little. There has been a riot in the market place; and these are some of the rioters. They have been told only that they are to be tried now.” “Then they cannot have reached Malincourt. Oh, I wonder what they will do to us,” cried Lucette. “I know how I would punish you were I the judge.” “I would trust you,” she smiled. “You wouldn’t like the punishment any more than I like the results of your act.” His tone was half earnest half jest; and she looked up puzzled. “What is my crime?” “You have given us splendid help in many ways; but I’m sadly out if our last mischances are not to be traced to that habit of yours--of making fools of us men.” “_Sadly_ out! I’m sadly out if you did not say that with a rare spice of relish. Sadly, indeed! Is this one of M. Burgher’s curtain lectures?” “If you were still Madame Burgher, it might be,” he laughed. “But I’ve gone back to Lucette, thank you, monsieur.”