A few moments after, M. Dupont entered the room; his clothes were streaming with water; to keep his hat on in the midst of the storm, he had tied it down to his head by means of his cravat, which was knotted under his chin; his gaiters were covered with chalky stains.
“There I have thee, my dear love!” cried his wife, tenderly embracing him. “I have been so uneasy!”
“Up to the present moment—THREE SAVED.”
“God be praised, my dear M. Dupont!” said Rodin; “at least your efforts will not have been all in vain.”
“Three, only three?” said Catherine. “Gracious heaven!”
“I only speak of those I saw myself, near the little creek of Goelands. Let us hope there may be more saved on other parts of the coast.”
“Yes, indeed; happily, the shore is not equally steep in all parts.”
“And where are these interesting sufferers, my dear sir?” asked Rodin, who could not avoid remaining a few instants longer.
“They are mounting the cliffs, supported by our people. As they cannot walk very fast, I ran on before to console my wife, and to take the necessary measures for their reception. First of all, my dear, you must get ready some women’s clothes.”
“There is then a woman amongst the persons saved?”