At this sight Clemence supported herself against the framework of the window, and Marillac hurriedly left the room. Pere Rousselet, who had at last been found in the kitchen, advanced majestically, eating an enormous slice of bread and butter. "Good heavens! have you arrived at last?" exclaimed Bergenheim. "Here is a gentleman this crazy mare has thrown against a tree, and who has received a violent blow on the head. Do you not think it would be the proper thing to bleed him?" "A slight phlebotomy might be very advantageous in stopping the extravasation of blood in the frontal region," replied the peasant, calling to his aid all the technical terms he had learned when he was a hospital nurse. "Are you sure you can do this bleeding well?" "I'll take the liberty of saying to Monsieur le Baron that I phlebotomized Perdreau last week and Mascareau only a month ago, without any complaint from them." "Indeed! I believe you," sneered the groom, "both are on their last legs." "I am neither Perdreau nor Mascareau," observed the wounded man with a smile. Rousselet drew himself up at full height, with the dignity of a man of talent who scorns to reply to either criticism or mistrust. "Monsieur," said Gerfaut, turning to the Baron, "I am really causing you too much trouble. This trifle does not merit the attention you give it. I do not suffer in the least. Some water and a napkin are all that I need. I fancy that I resemble an Iroquois Indian who has just been scalped; my pride is really what is most hurt," he added, with a smile, "when I think of the grotesque sight I must present to the ladies whom I notice at the window." "Why, it is Monsieur de Gerfaut!" exclaimed Mademoiselle de Corandeuil, toward whom he raised his eyes. Octave bowed to her with a gracious air. His glance wandered from the old lady to Clemence, who did not seem to have the strength to leave the window. M. de Bergenheim, after hurriedly greeting Marillac, finally yielded to the assurance that a surgeon was unnecessary, and conducted the two friends to his own room, where the wounded man could find everything that he needed. "What the devil was the use in sending me as ambassador, since you were to make such a fine entrance upon the stage?" murmured Marillac in his friend's ear. "Silence!" replied the latter as he pressed his hand; "I am only behind the scenes as yet." During this time Clemence and her aunt had led Aline to her room. "Now, tell us what all this means?" said Mademoiselle de Corandeuil, while the young girl was changing her dress.