"Poor Trilby," she said, embracing him in her two arms, "dear Trilby-- good Trilby! you are half dead, are you not? But I love you well. Go quickly, Monsieur de Camors, I will attend to Trilby"--and while the young man entered the cabin, she confided Trilby to the charge of her servant, with orders to take him to the stable, and a thousand minute directions to take good care of him after his noble conduct. Dr. Durocher had to obtain the aid of Camors to pass the new medicine through the clenched teeth of the unfortunate children. While both were engaged in this work, Madame de Tecle was sitting on a stool with her head resting against the cabin wall. Durocher suddenly raised his eyes and fixed them on her. "My dear Madame," he said, "you are ill. You have had too much excitement, and the odors here are insupportable. You must go home." "I really do not feel very well," she murmured. "You must go at once. We shall send you the news. One of your servants will take you home." She raised herself, trembling; but one look from the young wife of the sabot-maker arrested her. To this poor woman, it seemed that Providence deserted her with Madame de Tecle. "No!" she said with a divine sweetness; "I will not go. I shall only breathe a little fresh air. I will remain until they are safe, I promise you;" and she left the room smiling upon the poor woman. After a few minutes, Durocher said to M. de Camors: "My dear sir, I thank you--but I really have no further need of your services; so you too may go and rest yourself, for you also are growing pale." Camors, exhausted by his long ride, felt suffocated by the atmosphere of the hut, and consented to the suggestion of the old man, saying that he would not go far. As he put his foot outside of the cottage, Madame de Tecle, who was sitting before the door, quickly rose and threw over his shoulders a cloak which they had brought for her. She then reseated herself without speaking. "But you can not remain here all night," he said. "I should be too uneasy at home." "But the night is very cold--shall I make you a fire?" "If you wish," she said. "Let us see where we can make this little fire. In the midst of this wood it is impossible--we should have a conflagration to finish the picture. Can you walk? "Then take my arm, and we shall go and search for a place for our encampment." She leaned lightly on his arm, and took a few steps with him toward the forest. "Do you think they are saved?" she asked. "I hope so," he replied. "The face of Doctor Durocher is more cheerful." "Oh! how glad I am!" Both of them stumbled over a root, and laughed like two children for several minutes. "We shall soon be in the woods," said Madame de Tecle, "and I declare I can go no farther: good or bad, I choose this spot."