"And so, when you were at last in the forest—?"
"At last in the forest, yes—I knew not how long I should have to ride, but I made no haste,—sooner or later it would come, I thought. The birds hopping about on the branches seemed to be saying to one another, 'See this lady who has come to meet death.' I crossed a glade, and something seemed to whisper to my heart, 'Yonder it lies waiting, yonder in the shades beyond that little stream.' So I went on, and true enough, before I had gone far, five or six rough men sprang out from the bushes. Two caught my reins, and one raised a weapon of some kind and bade me deliver up my purse. I had no purse to deliver, and I feared they might let me go as not worth their trouble. Then I thought they might hold me for ransom, or rob me of my clothes, and discover I was a woman. Surely I was justified in resisting such a fate; so I drew the sword you gave me, and made a pass at the man with the weapon. He struck instantly, before I could turn my head aside, and I had time only for a flash of joy that God had indeed granted me deliverance. I scarce felt the blow, and then all went out in darkness. I knew nothing after. How did I come here? This is not the place where I met the robbers."
"It is very strange," said I. "This is where I found you, only a little while before you came to life. I had searched the path, but I saw no robbers. They did not take your horse,—I found it in the glade yonder, where I have left mine with it. That must be the glade you crossed before they appeared."
"But how came you to be here? Ah, did you disregard my wish and follow me?"
"Not at first. No; I went on toward Paris as you bade me. But after awhile I too had a feeling of danger befalling you in this forest. It was so strong that I could not force myself to go on. So I rode back, hoping to come in sight of you and follow at a distance. I could not do otherwise."
"Ah, Henri, perhaps it is to you I owe the ill service of bringing me back to life. Who knows?—I might have passed quietly away to death here had you not come and revived the feeble spark left in me. I must have been unconscious a long time."
"Yes; thank God I arrived no later than I did. But why should the robbers have brought you here? They have not even taken any of your clothes. See, here is your sword, replaced in its scabbard; even your cap is here, beside your head—look where the villain's weapon cut through,—it must have been a sort of halberd. Why should they have brought you here? Do they mean to return, I wonder?"
I rose and looked around, peering through the dusky spaces between the trunks of the trees, and straining my ears. Suddenly, amidst the chatter of the birds returning to their places for the night, I made out a sound of distant hoof-beats.
"Horsemen!" I said. "But these robbers were on foot, were they not?"
"Yes; I did not see any horses about."