"Then he ought to be arrested and taken to the police station."
"Why, no; he's the one who extinguished the lady; and got a pretty burn on his left wrist into the bargain."
"The deuce! if he plays the fiddle, that will bother him."
The hero and heroine of the adventure hastened to force their way through the crowd and to go into a pharmacy, which, luckily, was only a few steps away.
The lady sat down, and asked for a glass of orange water, to restore her strength after the shock she had received. Adhémar showed the druggist his burned wrist, which was first bathed in cold water, then covered with something guaranteed to heal the burn in a short time. But he had to submit to have his arm bandaged and to carry it in a sling for a while, for the wound was of considerable size.
While all this was being done, our two friends had time to look at each other, and—which was natural enough—tried to make out each other's individuality. The person who had nearly been burned to death was about twenty-five years of age, tall and slender and well built; her face, which usually wore a grave expression, became very attractive when she smiled; her black eyes were beautiful and very expressive, and the eyebrows which surmounted them were thin, but perfectly arched. Her hair was black, her Niobe-like nose but slightly prominent. Taken all in all, she was a very comely person; she was stylishly dressed, and her manners denoted high social position.
Adhémar discovered all this while his arm was being dressed. On her side, the lady had scrutinized the man who had rendered her such a signal service, and we know that the scrutiny could not be unfavorable to him.
"Mon Dieu! monsieur, I am terribly distressed. You are really badly burned," she said, while Adhémar's wrist was being bandaged.
"Oh! no, madame; it will very soon be all right."
"Yes," said the druggist, "very soon; but you will probably carry the mark of this burn to your dying day."