In the calmest manner in the world he called to two nuns, wearing large caps, one of whom was driving a little wagonette drawn by an old horse, and asked them to succor a poor woman whom he had found unconscious by the side of the road, her fingers crushed by some carriage. The good sisters who were in charge of a refuge and small infirmary at Duclair were only too ready to do so. They installed Madam Rousselin in the wagonette and covered her with shawls. She had not recovered consciousness and was delirious, waving her mutilated hand, the thumb and first finger of which were swollen and bleeding. The horse trotted quietly off. * * * * * Ralph remained motionless, thoroughly upset by the sight of that mutilated hand; and so upset was he that he did not notice the movements of Leonard and the three Corbus who had surrounded him and were about to attack him. When he did perceive them, the four of them had cut him off from the road and were trying to force him into the garden. No peasant was in sight; and the situation seemed so favorable to Leonard that he drew his knife. “Put that up and leave us!” cried Josephine. “You Corbus too. None of that foolishness!” She had not risen from her chair while all this had been going on, but now she rose among the bushes. Leonard protested: “It isn’t foolishness! The foolishness would be to let him go--now that we’ve once got him.” “Be off!” she commanded. “But that woman--that woman will denounce us!” “No she won’t. It’s not to Mother Rousselin’s interest to speak. Now be off!” said Josephine. Leonard and his friends moved away. She came close up to Ralph. He looked at her at length, with a look which appeared to disquiet her to the point that to break the silence she had to say jestingly: “Each in turn, isn’t it, Ralph? Between you and me success passes from one to the other. To-day you have the upper hand. To-morrow--but what’s the matter with you? You do look funny! And your eyes are positively savage.” He said curtly: “Good-by, Josine.” The color in her cheeks faded a little and she said: “Good-by? You mean _au revoir_.” “No: good-by.” “Then--then--you mean that you don’t wish to see me again?” “I don’t wish to see you again,” he said coldly. She lowered her eyes. Her eyelids quivered. Her lips were smiling and at the same time infinitely dolorous. “Why, Ralph?” she murmured. “Because I’ve seen a thing that I cannot--that I can never forgive you,” he said. “What?” “That poor woman’s hand.” She looked as if she were going to faint and murmured, “Ah, I understand.... Leonard hurt her.... But I forbade him to do anything of the kind.... I thought she had yielded merely to threats.”