“Mother Mathurine,” cried the brawny Jean, somewhat embarrassed, “do not thank _me_.” “What! When you have saved his life for the fourth time! _Mon Dieu!_ What courage!” “It was nothing,” answered he, astonished that his action in Bruno’s behalf should be judged so meritorious. At this moment Bruno stirred. “Bruno wants to embrace you,” observed Monsieur Eugène to Mother Mathurine. “O Bruno! Naughty, careless boy,” she cried. “Did you not promise me that you would not again expose yourself to danger? You will be the death of me--running so many risks.” “What could I do, mother? Could I leave a child to die without raising a finger to save her?” “O my boy! You know how much I love you. Do not torment me again. Be more careful in the future.” “But you forget, mother, that my friend Jean comes in time to save me always,” and he seized Manant’s hand, the latter trying to conceal his emotion. Some one was silently weeping tears of joy in a secluded corner of the room. Poor little Sidonie! Ordinarily she would have hastened to embrace Mother Mathurine. But now a fear possessed her and she could not trust herself to speak. For worlds she would not expose her swollen eyes that Bruno might see what she endured. “Are you suffering now?” asked Mother Mathurine. “My body seems broken, but I have no actual pain,” answered Bruno. “What a miracle that your brain was not crushed. God be praised!” said the grateful mother. “But can you not come home?” “I believe so.” “No imprudence, if you please,” expostulated Eugène. “Bruno must remain here for a few days or a week if necessary.” “You are too good, Monsieur Eugène,” said the young man. “Already I have given you so much trouble. With Jean’s assistance I can easily go home.” Sidonie was hoping that Bruno would mention her presence. The poor girl was looking reproachfully at him when Mother Mathurine noticed her for the first time. “Why, Sidonie, child! You have been very quiet. How long have you been here? Come and kiss me.” “Madame Catherine also assisted Monsieur Eugène when he bled my arm. _She_ held it for him,” broke out Bruno, unconsciously wounding the already suffering Sidonie. “Yes, I know. I met her on the way here. Poor Catherine! She looked unhappy!” “But she ought to be the happiest woman in the village,” said Monsieur Eugène earnestly. Bruno’s countenance assumed a peculiar expression, while Madame Mathurine, who understood matters, drew little Sidonie closer to her side. “Ah, my dear,” she said in a whisper, “if it ever depends upon me it is you he shall choose.” Sidonie clasped Mother Mathurine with gracious joy. By the side of Monsieur Eugène old Jeannille sat as though transfixed, with her eyes sharply directed at the lame girl. One by one the stars began to blossom in the heavens. Night was come. Nature had fallen asleep and the beautiful silver lights were keeping guard on high.