“Help me up, you knave!” I said, thrusting his hands from my throat; “you will choke me here in the snow.”
He uttered an ejaculation and stood transfixed with amazement.
“I beg your pardon a thousand times, M. le Maréchal,” he said, after a moment, recovering sufficiently to help me to my feet; “but where is the other?”
“Gone while you were belaboring me,” I replied dryly. “What has happened?”
“M. de Lambert is wounded,” he said, “I know not how badly. It was, as you supposed, a trap; mademoiselle was not here.”
I did not wait to hear more, being anxious for my friend. “Where is he?” I exclaimed.
Pierrot turned, and conducted me across the bridge to the farther side. There in the snow were two dark figures.
“Who is with him?” I asked quickly.
“I know not,” my equerry replied; “but it is the stranger who saved his life.”
As we approached, I saw that M. de Lambert was sitting up, supported by the other.