"What, uncle, this wound of Mlle. Ernestine's—?"
"When I fell from the top of the bank," resumed the old man, interrupting his nephew, who had cast a look of inexpressible gratitude on Mlle. de Beaumesnil, "my head struck the pavement, and I lay there unable to make the slightest movement, though I seemed to see the horses advancing towards me through a sort of mist. My head could not have been more than a yard from the wheel when I heard a loud cry, and dimly perceived a woman, who was coming in the opposite direction from the horses, rush towards me. Then consciousness deserted me entirely. When I regained it," continued the old man, with increasing emotion, "I was half lying, half sitting, on the bank a couple of yards from the spot where I had fallen, and a young girl, an angel of goodness and courage, was kneeling beside me, with clasped hands, her face still pale with terror, and her forehead covered with blood. And it was she," exclaimed the old officer, turning to Ernestine, who had now entirely recovered her senses, "yes, it was you, mademoiselle, who saved my life at the risk of your own,—you, a frail, delicate creature who listened only to the promptings of your noble heart and indomitable courage."
"Oh, Ernestine, how proud I am of being your friend!" cried the duchess, pressing the blushing and embarrassed girl to her heart.
"Yes, you may well be!" cried the old man, enthusiastically.
"Mademoiselle," said Olivier, in his turn, addressing Mlle. de Beaumesnil with unmistakable agitation, "I can only say—but I feel sure that you will understand what these words mean to me—I owe the life of my uncle, or rather of the most tenderly loved father, to you."
"M. Olivier," replied Mlle. de Beaumesnil, averting her eyes after a wondering glance at the young man, "what you say makes me doubly happy, for until now I was entirely ignorant that this gentleman was that dear relative of yours Herminie was telling me about day before yesterday."
"But how are you feeling now, mademoiselle?" inquired the old man, with deep interest. "Don't you think it would be well to send for a physician, Mlle. Herminie? Olivier will run and get one."
"Pray do nothing of the kind, M. Olivier," cried Ernestine, hastily. "My head hurts me very little; the wound must be scarcely more than a scratch, for I hardly feel it. When I fainted just now, it was more from excitement than pain."
"That makes no difference, you must have a little rest, all the same," said Herminie. "I think, with you, that your wound is slight, but you have had such a fright that I intend to keep you a few hours."
"Oh, so far as that prescription is concerned, I will take it with pleasure, my dear Herminie," responded Mlle. de Beaumesnil, smiling; "and I shall try to make my convalescence last as long as possible."