“They will stop in a moment,” said Menard, “and form for the gantlet. Yes,––see, the Long Arrow holds up his hands.” He stood irresolute, looking at the fantastic picture; then he stepped back into the hut.
The maid lay in her blanket on the bench. 217 He stood over her, looking at the peaceful face that rested on her outstretched arm. He took her hand, and said gently:––
“Mademoiselle.”
She stirred, and slowly opened her eyes; she did not seem surprised that he should be there clasping tightly her slender hand. He wondered if he had been in her dreams.
“Good-bye, Mademoiselle.”
“You––you are going, M’sieu?”
“Yes.”
She looked up at him with half-dazed eyes. She was not yet fully awake.
“You must not fear,” he said. “They cannot hurt you. You will soon be safe at––at Frontenac.”
She was beginning to understand. Then all at once the light came into her eyes, and she clung to his arm, which was still wet with the dew.