Marcel heard the cry, saw a pair of beautiful eyes, and, without waiting longer, bounded forth, and seized his dog by the skin of his neck, flinging him over on to the ground. Then, picking up the terrier, still panting with the shock, but quite uninjured, he exhibited him to the lady, with a smile—
“Do not be anxious, madame; your savage little animal is safe and sound. Still, we were only just in time. Please excuse us, and take into account that we were not the aggressors.”
The lady put the dog under her arm, gave him a gentle tap, saying, in scolding tones—
“Oh! Che bestia! A fly trying to devour a wolf!”
Marcel could now see her at leisure, as she was tenderly scolding her terrier, and he stood there, filled with admiration at the gentle beauty of the unknown lady. Her face was of a perfect oval, surrounded by golden hair; her dark eyes were languishing and gentle, whilst she had the chaste and timid mien of a young girl. All the same, she was dressed in mourning, like a widow. Fixing her eyes on Marcel, she said, in quiet, gracious accents—
“A thousand thanks, sir, for your timely intervention. I am sorry for your poor dog, which did quite right in defending itself.”
“There can be no comparison, madame,” said Marcel, “between this charming little animal of yours and this large-pawed dog of mine, accustomed to brambles and thorns. I am sorry I have stopped your walk, but now you may continue in perfect safety; I will chain up my dog.”
The young woman bowed her head in token of thanks.
“If I am trespassing on your property, I beg you to excuse me. I am a stranger, and have only been in these parts the last two days. I am acquainted with no one to inform me as to what I have a right to do.”
“Here, madame, you may do as you please. Doubtless you are living at the Villa de la Cavée?”