"Wounded, Karl? Severely?"
"Perhaps. The cut was deep, though he did not seem to mind it."
"Where was it?"
"Last night, when we were changing the horses, just before we came to the frontier, the leading-horse wished to go before the postilion had mounted the saddle-beast. You were in the carriage alone; the postilion and I were four or five paces off. The Chevalier held the horse with immense power, and with a lion's courage, for he was very restive."
"Ah! yes, I felt violent shocks, but you told me it was nothing."
"I did not know the Chevalier was hurt. He had injured his hand with a buckle of the harness."
"And for me? But, tell me, Karl, has the Chevalier gone?"
"Not yet. His horse is now being saddled, and I am come to pack his portmanteau. He says that you have nothing to fear, for the person who is to replace him has arrived. I hope we will see him soon, for I would be sorry for any accident to happen. He, however, would promise nothing, and to all my questions answered 'Perhaps.'"
"Where is the Chevalier, Karl?"
"I do not know, signora, his room is there. Do you wish me to say from you——"