Meanwhile L’Ours is beating off the infuriated animals, and the panic gradually subsides. Seizing Bruno with one hand and protecting himself with the other, he speeds to a neighboring cottage, regardless of the disorder and confusion that prevail.
The house in question belongs to an eccentric personage, well known throughout the country for his benevolence. Assistance is never withheld from the worthy seeker by Monsieur Eugène. Day and night he is always ready to give advice or succor to the unfortunate, and one can enter his house without going through the form of knocking. A welcome is always certain and the latch-string is never within.
Without ceremony, therefore, L’Ours enters the cottage, and advancing to a couch gently places his burden on the counterpane. A crowd of curious people has followed and now enters in procession. Bruno’s eyes and cheeks are ghastly with blood and his lips are set and colorless. As he lies motionless upon the bed Jean Manant (L’Ours) begins to feel his hands and limbs with anxious haste.
“Nothing broken here,” he remarks, stroking the unfortunate’s left leg. “Nor there, nor there,” he continues, probing Bruno’s arms and chest. Large beads of perspiration stand on his forehead and tears fall from his eyes like rain.
Monsieur Eugène arrives at this moment.
“What is the matter?” he inquires solicitously.
Jean makes no reply, and Brigitte Martinet and Félicité Mafflu proceed in discordant concert to relate the adventure. As both speak at once and each has a different version to tell, Eugène is unable to understand a word. So calling Catherine, who is lingering near the door, he says: “Madame Barrau, will you have the kindness to explain the situation? Come, Brigitte, let Madame speak.”
Catherine comes forward. All are surprised at her lack of emotion. In a few words she tells Monsieur Eugène all the circumstances: how Bruno rushed to the child’s rescue, and how Jean bravely fought his way to Bruno’s prostrate body and carried him here.
“Remarkable!” exclaims Monsieur in cheerful tones. “And now, good people, do me the favor to wait outside in the yard until we see what can be done. Too many here will be an inconvenience, but one or two of you may stay to assist.”
Catherine and Sidonie, the little cripple, remain, but the others file slowly out into the yard. As she is leaving an old peasant woman is motioned to remain. She is a nonentity, but a woman who will follow Monsieur Eugène’s directions to the letter without a quiver of the eyelids or the lips. Nothing astonishes her, for she is like an iceberg—immovable and unfathomable. In the village there are people who declare she never speaks. Jeannille Marselon is a curiosity to the villagers, who years since have ceased trying to thaw out this living icicle.