CHAPTER V. It was a strange, picturesque scene there in the starlit garden, with its stately palms, its immense rough cactuses, its fountains, and flowers. The man sat there with doubt, trouble, and sympathy looking out of his frank eyes at the girl who knelt before him, her delicate, tapering hands pressed together, her white face looking up piteously, the tears raining from her splendid eyes, and the long veil of golden hair sweeping loosely about her slender form, that passionate appeal thrilling over her crimson lips: "Save me! save me!" "Poor child, what can I do?" he uttered, almost unconsciously, and she answered, wildly: "Only tell me where to fly for refuge! I am dazed and frightened. I know not where to go unless to the deep, dark river, and fling myself in. But I do not want to die. I only want to get away from this terrible place to some happier spot! Ah! _certainement, le bon Dieu_ sent you here, monsieur, to help me, to save me!" All her trust was in him, all her confidence. He had promised to be her friend, and in a simplicity and innocence as complete as a child's, she claimed his promise. Nay, more, she claimed that God had sent him to her aid in this dark hour of distress. His mind was a chaos of contending emotions. That he must help her he had decided already in his mind. But how? No answer presented itself to the vexing question. His thoughts were in such a tumult that clear, coherent thinking was an impossibility. A moment, and he said, gently: "Yes, I will help you, my child. I were less than man could I let this thing go on and make no attempt to rescue you from so dark a fate. But--" He paused, and she waited anxiously with her straining gaze fixed on his troubled face. "But," he went on slowly, "I can not see my way clear yet; I must think, must decide. And it is not safe to remain out here longer. They may come out here and find me at any moment. Little one, can you trust me to go away and think it all over, and then come back to you?" A moment of silence, then she rose and stood before him. "Yes, yes, I will trust you," she said, gently; then, with sudden desperation, "Should--should you not come back I will never be taken by him. There--is--still--the--river!" "Do not think of that," he said, quickly; "I will soon return. Trust me wholly. Have I not promised to be your friend?" "Yes, yes," eagerly. She put out her hands as if to clasp his arm, then suddenly withdrew them. Frank and child-like as she was, she was coy and shy as a fawn. She clasped her delicate hands before her, and stood waiting. "Now, tell me, is there not some way by which I can gain the street without returning to the house?" said Van Zandt. "Yes, monsieur. Follow me," said the girl, turning swiftly and going across the garden to a small gate in the wall that opened on the street.