"Mademoiselle! Tell me what is the matter. Tell me what can I do. Let me do something, I beg of you!" Lifting her again, he seated her beside him on the fallen tree; and this time he did not at once release her. At first, her eyes closed and her face a little drawn as with pain, she clung instinctively to his arm, with hands that seemed to him the most maddening that he had ever seen. Then, after several minutes which were very agreeable to him in spite of his anxiety, she appeared to pull herself together with a mighty effort. She moved away from his clasp, sat up straight, and opened upon him great eyes of pain and gratitude. "Oh, thank you Monsieur!" she said simply. "I'm afraid I have been very troublesome. But, indeed, I thought I was going to die." "But what is the matter, Mademoiselle? Tell me, and let me help you." She sat cringing and setting her teeth hard. He noticed how white were the teeth, how scarlet the full lips. "It is just my heart," she said. "I was looking through the bushes to see who was coming. Something startled me, I think; and the pain clutched at my heart so I could not breathe, and I fell off." She paused, to moan a little softly and catch her breath. Before he could say anything she went on: "It's better now, but it hurts horribly." "Let me support you, Mademoiselle," he urged with eager courtesy. But she shrank away from the approaching ministration. "No, Monsieur, I am better, really. But I must get home as quick as I can." She rose unsteadily. The Englishman arose at the same time. The next moment Barbe sank back again, biting her lips to keep back a cry. "Oh," she gasped, "I can't stand it! How can I get home?" "You must let me see you home, Mademoiselle," said the officer, authority blending with palpable enthusiasm in his tones. "You are so good, Monsieur," she murmured gratefully. "But I could not think of taking you away back so far, almost to the village. It will spoil your afternoon's sport." The sympathy of the Englishman's face gave way to amusement, and he hastened to assure her of her mistake. "Not at all, indeed, Mademoiselle. It will be quite as much my pleasure as my duty to see you safely home. Your misfortune--if not too serious--is my great good fortune!"