"Oh, no!" said Fleur-de-Marie, warmly; "when I felt myself about to die, my last thought was of him whom I regard as my 'Dieu;' so, also, when I was recalled back to life, my first thought was of him."
"It is a pleasure to confer benefits on you; you do not forget."
"Oh, no! it is so pleasant to fall asleep and dream of one's gratitude, and on awakening to remember it still!"
"Ah! one would go through fire to serve you."
"Good Louve! Hold; I assure you that one of the causes which render me desirous to live, is the hope of conferring happiness on you—of accomplishing my promise; you remember our castles in the air at Saint Lazare?"
"As to that, there is time enough; now you are on your feet again, I have made my expenses, as Martial says."
"I hope that the Count of Saint Rémy will tell me, directly, that the physician will allow me to write to Madame George. She must be so uneasy! And, perhaps, M. Rudolph also!" added Fleur-de-Marie casting down her eyes, and blushing anew at the thought of her preserver. "Perhaps they think me dead!"
"As those believe, also, who ordered you to be drowned, poor dear! Oh, the hounds!"
"You always suppose, then, that it was not an accident, La Louve?"
"An accident? Yes, the Martials call them accidents. When I say the Martials, it is without counting my man for he is not of that family, no more than François and Amandine shall be."