'Nor even wounded?'
'No; but why do you ask?'
'Because—but where is mademoiselle, your sister—that dear, pious daughter of Vincent de Paule?'
'Asleep, in her chamber, I presume; but what mean you by all these questions?' I demanded, while a vague emotion of alarm agitated me.
'Mademoiselle, about half-an-hour ago, was told that you had been attacked on the road, and left dangerously wounded; that you were dying, in fact, and had sent for her; so she instantly went with them, in search of you.'
'With them!—with whom, fellow?—and who told her all this?'
'M. le Comte de Bitche, who came hither hurriedly and clamorously inquiring for the young girl of Nanci, whom an abbé had brought from Paris. He gave her these dreadful tidings, and sadly terrified and grieved the poor little thing became; but she threw on her hood, and hastened to you.'
'Accompanied by whom?—speak fellow, speak!'
'M. le Comte, and two other gentlemen of Monseigneur de Vaudemont's suite.'
'Eternal infamy! it has all been a decoy—a snare! Oh, Nicola, Nicola! what insanity prompted me to leave you, even for a moment? Was the Prince with them?'