She pressed my hand in hers, and said, in a broken voice-- "Monsieur, if you ever loved my niece, as you say you do, aid in her rescue from this demon!" I returned the pressure in silence, and was making preparation to scour the roads and thickets which covered all the district, when, amid our consternation, the tramp of horses was heard, and the Chevalier de Boisguiller, accompanied by twelve hussars, rode hurriedly up to the gate. The countess was standing on the front door-steps of the chateau, pale, trembling, and her eyes red with weeping. Some ten men, including Urbain, the valets, gardeners, and grooms, stood around her, loading their arms, fixing and snapping their flints and lighting torches and lanterns, for darkness had long since set completely in. The Chevalier dismounted, threw his bridle-reins to a hussar, and advancing to the countess, said, with a smiling bow-- "_Peste!_ but I seem to have come at a critical time, madame. Has the lake been poached--the hen-roost robbed, or what, that you are preparing to take the field like a chatelaine of old?" "Oh, chevalier, you have indeed come at a most critical time. Heaven itself must have sent you!" "Not at all," replied the heedless hussar. "I am such a sad dog that I fear Heaven has long since given me up as incorrigible, but I have been sent here by order of the count, my father, with a sergeant and twelve troopers. You must learn, that on the day I had last the honour to visit you, a letter came to the commandant of St. Malo--a private letter, oddly spelled, on a very crumpled piece of paper, and bearing the feigned signature of Theophile Damien, but bringing information that an English spy was secreted _here_. So, as duty compelled the count to see into the matter, and friendship urged that he should spare you an affront, he despatched me to make the necessary inquiries. Now I remember me of a soubrette of my cousin's----" "Monsieur le Chevalier," said the poor countess, speaking rapidly amid a torrent of tears, "the person of whom you speak is no spy--for that you have my word of honour." The chevalier bowed low, with his right hand on his heart, accepting the pledge for me. "He is no spy, and must be protected. He it was who saved the life of Jacqueline, and will peril his life with you to save her once again, if indeed it be not too late already." "Again--too late--what do you mean?" "She means, chevalier," said I, "that Mademoiselle Jacqueline has been torn from us by a ruffian of the most daring and unscrupulous character--by Hautois, the galley-slave." "Hautois!" repeated the chevalier, with indescribable alarm. "By Hautois, and thus your arrival is most opportune. I am the person referred to in your orders; but for Heaven's sake--for the sake of Mademoiselle Jacqueline, waste no time or thought on me. I will assist you, aid you with my life to save, to rescue her, and after that is achieved, deal with me as you will."