"What is the matter, Amélie?" asked her father. "Do not be alarmed, my daughter. Thank God that our unknown friend is no longer in danger. Come nearer and hold the light still a moment. Now the bandage. Bring one of my shirts, also my great-coat and a glass of cognac or a little coffee."
"Do not trouble yourselves further. I am doing well," declared the wounded man. "At the Hotel Douglas I have changes of clothing."
René's eyes passionately sought those of Amélie, which, dilated with terror, could not unfasten themselves from his face.
The host insisted: "It is too late to go to the Hotel. The streets, as we have seen, are dangerous. Accept, then, for a little while the clothes of a humble artisan, Monsieur—?"
"René de Giac, Marquis de Brezé."
"Charles Louis Naundorff," said the host introducing himself. "And these are my wife and daughter. Will you believe me when I say that I knew you were a Frenchman when you sprang to my defense?"
On hearing that René had protected her father, Amélie approached her lover and gave him a look that was all radiance, an abandon of the soul, an unconditional surrender. It lasted but a moment. Had it been prolonged, it would have melted the heart of the man who, not long before, meditated a leap into the Thames.
"To be a Frenchman and to be a hero from choice are mutual corollaries. You did not know me. Why, then, should you risk your life? Thus is my debt; of gratitude to you increased," said Naundorff, smiling.
Amélie had brought René a cup of coffee which, having the effect of a cordial, made him talkative.
"A half hour since, the bandits and I were concealed in the park; an hour since, I started on their trail."