And he, poor fellow, no longer knew where he was going or what he was doing. He descended the stairs mechanically, reeling like a drunken man. These three fearful experiences were too much for his reason. When he reached the grand gallery of the Louvre, his eyes closed in spite of him, his legs gave way, and he sank on his knees against the wall, murmuring,-- "I foresaw that the angel would cause me more bitter agony than the two devils." He had fainted. Night had come on; and no one was passing through the gallery. He was recalled to his senses by feeling a soft hand smoothing his forehead, and hearing a sweet voice speaking to his very soul. He opened his eyes. The little queen-dauphine, Mary Stuart, stood before him, with a lighted taper in her hand. "Ah, how fortunate! Another angel!" said Gabriel. "Is it you, Monsieur d'Exmès?" said Mary. "Oh, how you frightened me! I thought you were dead. What is the matter? How pale you are! Do you feel any better? I will call for help, if you wish." "Useless, Madame," said Gabriel, trying to rise. "Your voice has restored me to life." "Let me help you," said Mary. "Poor fellow! Are you ill? You had fainted, hadn't you? As I was passing, I spied you lying here, and I hadn't strength enough to cry out. And then reflection gave me courage, and I came nearer to you; and I was pretty brave, I think. I laid my hand on your forehead, which was like ice. I called you, and you came to yourself. Do you still feel better?" "Yes, Madame; and may God bless you for your goodness! I remember now, I had a fearful pain in my temples as if they were being pressed by an iron vice; my knees shook under me; and I fell here by this drapery. But how did the pain come on? Ah, yes, I remember now, I remember it all. Alas, _mon Dieu_! _mon Dieu_! Too well I remember." "It is some terrible sorrow that oppresses you so, is it not?" asked Mary. "It must be so, for, see, you are paler than ever again at the mere remembrance of it. Lean on my arm, for I am willing and strong; and I will call help, and find somebody to go home with you." "Thanks, Madame," said Gabriel, struggling to recover his strength and his resolution. "I find I still have strength enough to go home alone. See, I can walk without help, and with a firm step. I am no less grateful to you; and while I live I shall never forget your simple and touching kindness, Madame. You came to me like an angel of comfort at a painful crisis in my life. Nothing but death, Madame, can ever efface it from my heart." "Oh, _mon Dieu_! what I did was the most natural thing in the world to do, Monsieur d'Exmès; I would have done as much for any suffering creature, and so much the more gladly for you whom I know to be the devoted friend of my Uncle de Guise. Pray don't thank me for such a small matter."