"But explain to me why you are wet."
"I knew you were in danger—I could find no boat."
"And you swam here?"
"Yes. But your hands; let me kiss them. You suffer—the monsters! And
I was not here!"
"Oh! my brave Louve," cried Martial, with enthusiasm; "brave among all brave creatures."
"Did you not write here 'death to dastards'?"
And La Louve showed her arm, where these words were written in indelible characters.
"Intrepid! But you feel the cold, you tremble."
"It is not the cold."
"Never mind. Go in there; take Calabash's cloak to wrap yourself in."