"'What is the matter with you? What has happened?' I exclaimed. 'Tell me all—I do not understand. Is it really you? Are you alive, and how is it that you, by some blessed chance, were able to leave the cavern, without my seeing you, before that terrible accident happened? And, then, how comes this blood, these wounds? Why are you hurt?'
"'We were under the rock, in the reservoir,' said Périères.
"'Impossible.'
"'Quite true,' said Delange.
"'But how?'
"'How?' he replied. 'At the bottom of the reservoir, and at one end there is a large opening, a sort of subterranean passage debouching on to a lower ledge. The torrent, rushing into the cavern, hurled us towards this opening, dragged us into the passage, and, after a second or two, threw us back, half-suffocated, wounded, bleeding, as you see us, but alive—very much alive, as you may perceive.'
"I began to understand, my head became clearer, I could collect my ideas, and I had no more fear for my reason.
"'You are certain,' said I, 'that Madame de Guéran is not seriously injured?'
"'I assure you,' replied Delange, 'that her forehead and wrists alone are hurt. Miss Poles has always some plaister with her (rather stiff from the bath it has had), and at this moment she is dressing the wounds of the Baroness as skilfully as I could do it myself.'
"'And you may add,' continued Périères, looking at me with a somewhat mournful smile, 'that Madame de Guéran is very anxious about you, my dear friend, and is wondering if you have not been crushed by the trees, carried away by the torrent, and, moreover, has insisted on our coming to look after you.'