"She is alive," he said, "she has just moaned feebly. It is only a little way to the farm. Hurry Maurice, go for help. God grant the Count's wound may not be fatal…."
The peasants who were haymaking nearby had left their work and come upon the scene. One man offered his cart and Albert was lifted, unconscious and bloodstained, and laid on the hay.
Esperance had come to her senses. She could see, but could not understand. A peasant woman, kneeling beside her, washed her face in water from a pool in the rocks.
Suddenly she recollected her comrade.
"Jean," she cried with fright, "Jean, Count Styvens?"
Jean sorrowfully showed her the wagon where he lay. Esperance, leaning on the young actor, stood up to be able to see, and a great sob shook her from head to feet.
"My God! my God!" she moaned, "is he killed?"
"No, I don't think so, not yet at least…."
"And his mother, his poor mother…. But what happened? I don't remember…. It is terrible…."
Jean described what had happened, and how the Count had snatched her from certain death.