"But explain to me how you became thus wet through."
"I knew you were in danger, and finding no boat—"
"You swam to my rescue?"
"I did. But your hands? Give them to me that I may heal them with my kisses! You are in pain, I fear? Oh, the monsters! And I not here to help you!"
"Oh, my brave Louve!" exclaimed Martial, enthusiastically; "bravest and best of all brave creatures!"
"Did not your hand trace on my arm 'Death to the cowardly?' See!" cried La Louve, showing her tattooed arm, on which these very words were indelibly engraved.
"Yes, you are bold and intrepid; but the cold has seized you,—you tremble!"
"Indeed, it is not with cold."
"Never mind,—go in there. You will find Calabash's cloak; wrap yourself well in it."
"But—"