Some muttered expressions of contempt spoken near me caused me to listen without turning round. They were meant for my ears, but I gave no heed. I knew well enough from whom they came,--Crespin and his friends. And I realized that we were in for it. True, there were the big guards and there was the capable bouncer, and they would glance my way now and then, seemingly to let Crespin know that all was understood and that it must be hands off with him. There was no danger here, but afterwards--The waltz came to an end, and the two were vigorously applauded. This was a critical moment, but Bishop handled it adroitly. He conducted Hélène to a seat remote from our table, bowed low, and left her, and came over to me. I told him of my fears, but he laughed. He had got rid of Hélène with perfect address, and perhaps she was nursing an angry and aching heart after her glorious triumph; perhaps Bishop had whispered to her something of the danger and suggested that they have nothing more to do with each other that evening. [Illustration: 9251] Presently I saw her start and look round. Crespin was behind her, livid with rage. She promptly rose and followed him into the garden. Bishop had not seen the movement. We were near the door leading into the garden, and by turning a little I could see the couple outside, not far away. Crespin was standing with a bullying air, and was evidently cursing her. She had tossed back her hair and was looking him defiantly in the face. I saw her lips move in speech. Instantly the ruffian dealt her a violent blow upon the chest, and she staggered back against a tree, which prevented her falling. "Come, let us stop that," I said to Bishop. "Hélène's lover is beating her in the garden." Bishop sprang to his feet and followed me. As he glanced out the window at the couple, whom I pointed out, he saw Crespin approach the dazed girl and deal her a terrible blow in the mouth, and he saw the blood that followed the blow. We arrived in the garden as a crowd was gathering. Bishop pushed his way ahead and was about to spring upon the brute, when Hélène saw him. With a supreme effort she leaped forward, thrust Bishop aside with a command to mind his own affairs, threw herself into her lover's arms, and kissed him, smearing his face with her blood. He glared at us, triumphant. The guards arrived, and Hélène and her lover disappeared among the trees in the darkness. "Oh, another unfaithful cocotte!" laughed one in the crowd, explaining to the guards; and they returned to their drinking and dancing, remarking, "Beat a woman, and she will love you." They had all missed the heroism and devotion of Hélène's interference. It was to keep a knife out of the body of the man she loved that she smeared her lover's face with her blood. We saw her no more.