“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.