Gabrielle’s heart beat very fast in the few moments she stood trying vainly to find words to speak, and she was conscious of little save a whirl of strange emotions in which predominated a sort of guilty pleasure at meeting again the stranger who had so filled her thoughts in the last hours. He broke the silence. “I trust that scoundrel did not hurt you, mademoiselle?” he said, voice and eyes alike full of solicitude, as she noticed in her swift flitting upward glance when he spoke. “No, monsieur,” she replied, and could say no more. “I have set a mark on him to know him by, and he will have a reckoning to settle. By your leave, I will see to this poor fellow’s hurt. I am something of a surgeon. A soldier must be many things,” and with a bow he went over to Denys and bent over him. This act relieved Gabrielle’s embarrassment, and fear for Denys made her less conscious of her own confusing thoughts. After a moment’s hesitation she knelt down on the other side of the wounded man. “My poor Denys,” she murmured. Her companion with quick deft touch found the wound, and after examining it, staunched the blood which was flowing freely. “An ill sight for your eyes, mademoiselle,” he said. “I am a soldier’s daughter, monsieur, and accustomed to the treatment of the sick. Is the hurt serious, think you?” “To the best of my judgment, no, unless there be some internal injury, which is not likely, judging by the direction of the wound. It was a coward’s thrust in truth, but like most coward’s work, ill done, thank Heaven. It is mainly a flesh wound. But a surgeon should see it with as little delay as possible.” “There will be help from the maison directly. I have sent for it.” At that moment Denys opened his eyes and seeing Gabrielle he smiled faintly, and then frowned in surprise at her companion. “You are not much hurt, my brave Denys,” said Gabrielle, “and all is well with me.” Denys rolled his eyes round as if in search of some one, and Gabrielle was quick to understand. “Lucette has gone for help, Denys; she will be back directly. All is well with her as with me.” He smiled again, and making an ineffectual effort to speak, closed his eyes with a sigh of relief. Then footsteps and voices were heard, and Lucette, with the Baron de Proballe and Jacques Dauban, came hurrying to the spot. Lucette threw herself beside Denys while de Proballe eyed the stranger with searching glances, and started slightly at the sound of his voice as he bade Lucette be cautious not to disturb Denys. “There has been fighting, I hear, Gabrielle,” he said. “There has been murder attempted, uncle, and it would have been done but for the intervention of this gentleman, who drove the assassins off.” “We are deeply beholden to you, monsieur,” said de Proballe courteously, “and on behalf of my niece, I thank you.” While he spake he was searching his memory to recall where he had seen the stranger, whose face and voice he seemed to know.