The voice that had shouted for assistance was growing weaker. But Fanfar, for he it was, soon found the Marquis, but just as he had succeeded in reaching him he slipped, and believed himself lost.
No, a strong hand grasped his arm and drew him up, but the burthen was heavy, for the Marquis was unconscious. Slowly, very slowly, Fanfar raised his load and himself, and finally sank upon the turf above, nearly as unconscious as the Marquis.
Fortunately, a small lantern, which Fanfar wore at his belt, was not broken; he lighted it and examined the face of the man he had rescued.
Yes, Fanfar, the resemblance is great. This is the brother of the man who died at Leigoutte. This is the man who outraged a woman one terrible night, and that woman was the sister of Simon's wife, and this man, who was then the Vicomte de Talizac, is to-day the Marquis de Fongereues. This man is your father! Does Fanfar know all this? Not he!
The Marquis opens his eyes, he sees Fanfar in the darkness.
"You have saved me!" he murmured.
"Can you stand? Can you walk?" asked Fanfar.
The Marquis struggled to his feet, but uttered a cry of pain.
"Are you hurt?"
"I think not, but I seem to have no strength left."