"Although he is one of those pestilent English who have been playing the devil at Cancalle and St. Malo?" "I care not--I am Jacqueline de Broglie." It was she indeed--she whom I had rescued, and who gave me the emerald ring by the wayside well; but she was now so richly attired, and had her fine hair so perfectly dressed, that I did not at first, and in such a terrible crisis, recognise her. "_Parbleu_, 'tis very well. Fall back, comrades, sheath your sabres, and finish your luncheon, for we march at sunset," said the captain, twisting his short moustache; "but what am I to understand by all this, mademoiselle?" "That he saved my life--my honour--scarcely four-and-twenty hours ago," said she, emphatically. "_Sacré!_ he nearly took both my life and honour this morning," said the chevalier, with a grimace. "And he is wounded--severely, too--the poor fellow!" she added, in a voice of tender commiseration. "What! is this the soldier of whom you were just speaking--he who saved you from that rascal Hautois, on the night St. Solidore was cannonaded and destroyed?" asked the hussar, with surprise. "The same, Monsieur de Boisguiller, and I demand that here, on my own threshold, his life shall be respected." "So be it, mademoiselle; for your sake, I would spare the lives of the whole British army, if such were your wish--assuredly it should not be _mine_," said the captain, bowing low, with a tender glance in his eye. "I thank you, M. le Chevalier," replied the lady, laughing. "And I congratulate you, M. le soldat, on having such an intercessor," said the Frenchman, making a merit of necessity, and with somewhat of apparent frankness presenting his hand to me. At that moment the whole place, the chateau with its turrets, the chevalier and the lady, appeared to whirl round me; the light went from my eyes, and darkness seemed to descend in its place; I made a wild clutch at a railing to prevent myself from falling, but failed; and, sinking on the steps that led to the entrance, remember no more of that interview. For several days after this, all was confusion or all oblivion to me. I was delirious and in a burning fever. CHAPTER IV. MY NURSE. Where was I? My next recollection, as the world came slowly back to me, or I to it, was the circumstance of finding myself in a small octagonal chamber, which was hung with pretty, but rather gaudy pictures of saints, in long scarlet or blue garments; there were St. Peter with his keys, St. Andrew with his cross, St. Catherine with her wheel, and St. Malo with something else. There were also a crucifix and little font of Delft ware hung on the wall near me. I was in a bed that was prettily draped by snow-white curtains, which hung from a ring in the ceiling, and formed a complete bell-tent around me, but were festooned back on one side. The soft pillows were edged with narrow lace.