"I conjure you," said she, "remove that mask. I will not look at you. Do so, and you will be able to breathe."
The stranger took Consuelo's two hands and placed them on his panting bosom, as much to feel their sweet warmth as to allay her anxiety to aid by unmasking him. At that moment all the young woman's soul was in that chaste embrace. She remembered what Karl had said, in a half growling and half softened mood.
"Do not die," said she; "do not die. Do you not see that I love you?"
Scarcely had she uttered these words than they seemed to have fallen from her in a dream. They had escaped her lips in spite of herself. The Chevalier had heard them. He made an effort to rise. He fell on his knees, and embraced those of Consuelo, who, in her agitation shed tears.
Karl returned with the flask. The Chevalier refused the favorite specific of the deserter, and leaning on him reached the coach, where Consuelo sat by him. She was much troubled at the cold, which could not but be communicated to him by his damp clothes.
"Do not be afraid, signora," said Karl, "the Chevalier has not had time to grow cold. I will wrap him up in his cloak, which I took care to put in the carriage when I saw the rain coming. I was sure he would be damp. When one has become wet, and puts on dry apparel over all, heat is preserved for a long time. It is as if you were in a warm bath, and it is not at all unhealthy."
"You, Karl, do the same thing; and take my mantle, for you have also got wet."
"I? Ah! my skin is thicker than yours. Put your mantle on the Chevalier; pack him up well; and if I kill the poor horse, I will hurry on to the next relay."
For an hour Consuelo kept her arms around the stranger; and her head resting on his bosom, filled him with life far sooner than all the receipts and prescriptions of Karl. She sometimes felt his brow, and warmed it with her breath, in order that the perspiration which hung on it might not be chilled. When the carriage paused, he clasped her to his breast with a power that showed he was in all the plenitude of life and health. He then let down the steps hastily, and disappeared.
Consuelo found herself beneath a kind of shed, face to face with an old servant, half peasant in his appearance, who bore a dark lantern, and led her by a pathway, bordered by a hedge, to an ordinary-looking house, a kind of summer retreat, the door of which he shut, after having ushered her in. Seeing a second door open, she went into a little room, which was very clean, and simply divided into two parts. One was a well-warmed chamber, with a good bed all prepared; and in the other was a light and comfortable supper. She noticed with sorrow that there was but one cover, and when Karl came to offer to serve her, she did not dare to tell him the only thing she wished was the company of her friend and protector.