She made an effort to cry out, but found speech as difficult as movement. The voices which had sounded so nearby a short time before were growing less distinct. Unless she could attract some one’s attention immediately, she must remain an indefinite length of time, half frozen and half starved in the Queen’s garden. In all probability no one ever entered it save the gardeners who came in now and then to take care of it.
Bettina’s second effort to call for help was more successful.
The following instant she became aware of a puzzled silence. Then the voices addressed each other again, as if they were questioning their own ears.
A third time Bettina called, making another effort to move forward. Then she knew that some one must have heard her, because the footsteps which had been dying away a short time before were now approaching.
There was a figure in marble nearby, the figure of a Greek girl, and against this Bettina leaned for support, scarcely conscious of what she was doing.
The next moment two persons were standing within a few feet of her, both faces betraying an almost equal astonishment.
The one was an old Frenchman’s, evidently one of the park gardeners, since he had on his working clothes and the insignia of his occupation. His skin, which was weather beaten and wrinkled at all times, now seemed to crinkle into fresh lines through surprise and consternation.
“Mon Dieu!” he exclaimed, staring blankly and offering no further aid or suggestion.
His companion was a young man, whom, in spite of her exhausted condition, Bettina recognized at once as one of her own countrymen.
Instantly, whatever his secret astonishment, he came forward and without asking permission, slipped his arm through Bettina’s, having realized that she was hardly able to stand alone.