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 while.’ ‘Why?’ she asked with a slight frown. I did not know how to tell her, and I began lamely. ‘Someone must stop with madame,’ I said without thought. ‘Madame?’ she exclaimed. ‘Does she require assistance? I will stop.’ ‘God forbid!’ I cried. I do not know how she understood the words, but her face, which had been full of softness, grew hard. She moved quickly towards me; but, mindful of the danger I carried about me, I drew farther back. ‘No nearer, mademoiselle,’ I murmured, ‘if you please.’ She looked puzzled, and finally angry, turning away with a sarcastic bow. ‘So be it, then, sir,’ she said proudly, ‘if you desire it. M. d’Agen, if you are not afraid of me, will you lead me down?’