"Adèle," I said, "don't you know me?"
She started violently. She looked steadily at me for a moment in dumb amazement. Her cheeks were ashen, her eyes dilated. And then recognition came—recognition in which there was also an element of terror.
"Jim!" she cried. "Jim! Oh! God!"
Her hands went to her throat. Her eyes seemed as though they would devour me. Yet she was not wholly sure! I took her into my arms!
"It was another man whom they shot, Adèle," I murmured. "It is I indeed, dearest."
But I spoke as one might speak to the dead. Adèle had fainted in my arms!
CHAPTER XXXIV
RIFLE PRACTICE
Adèle was herself in a very few minutes. My cousin considerately slipped out of the room. Directly she opened her eyes and found me kneeling by her side, her color became more natural.
"Jim," she murmured, "how did you do it? Tell me how it is that you are alive."