I had turned to look--and away again in infinite horror. Upon the half-stunned wretch, as he lay prostrate on his back, an old ravening boar of the herd had flung itself in fury, and with one bestial clinch of its teeth and jerk of its powerful neck had torn out the very apple of the man’s throat. And there atop of his victim the huge brute sprawled, tossing its head and squeaking furiously; while the rest of the herd, smitten with the beast-lust, ran hither and thither, approaching, snuffing, retreating, and, through all, never ceasing in their guttural outcry. Now in a moment came a pause in the tumult, and I read in my opponent’s eyes, as distinctly as though they were mirrors, that the triumphant brute behind me was showing itself alert with consciousness of the living prey that yet offered itself in reversion. I saw in the man’s face amazement resolve itself into sick terror; he slipped back into its sheath the _couteau-poignard_ he had half drawn. “_Adieu-va!_” I shouted at him, advancing--and on the word he wheeled about and pounded off amongst the trees as if the devil were at his heels. When I ran to Mademoiselle de Lâge, she was regaining in a dazed manner her feet and her faculties. “I must lift you--I must help you!” I cried. “Ah! do not look, but come away! My God, what peril, when the beast in man is made manifest to the beast in the beast!” I put my right arm about her under hers. To touch the very stringy texture of the _jupon_ with my hand was to find my heart queerly lodged in my finger-tips. She came quietly with me a few paces; then suddenly she wrenched herself free, and, turning her back upon me, fumbled in her bosom. “Monsieur,” she said on a little faint key, from the covert of her hair (_Bon Dieu!_ that admirable low huskiness in her voice that made of her every utterance a caress!),--“monsieur, he was the old brave of my little troop. I called him my _Chevalier du Guet_. It was inhuman--yes, it was inhuman; but he struck for his lady and rescued her. Wilt thou not be my ambassador to decorate him for a last token of gratitude?” Heaven! the magnificence of her fancy! She had taken from her shoulders her scapular, together with a little heart of chalcedonyx that hung therefrom. This latter she detached and handed to me. “Loop it to his ear, if thou darest,” said she. I went quite gravely to do her bidding. What a _farceur_ of circumstance was I become! But my breast overflowed with deference as I approached the great pig. He had rolled from his victim and stood a little apart, evilly humouring with his chaps a certain recollection. He eyed me with wickedness as I advanced, and his obsequious following, something subsided from their hysteria, seemed awaiting their cue. I would not allow myself a second’s indecision. I walked straight up to him--“Monsieur,” I said, “_avec l’égard le plus profond_”--and flung the string over his ear.