She went to the door, and, withdrawing the bar, stepped quickly back to the bedside, where for an instant the light borne by those who entered blinded her. Then, above the lantern, the faces of La Tribe and Bigot broke upon her, and their shining eyes told her that they bore good news. It was well, for the men seemed tongue-tied. The minister's fluency was gone; he was very pale, and it was Bigot who in the end spoke for both. He stepped forward, and, kneeling, kissed her cold hand.
"My lady," he said, "you have gained all, and lost nothing. Blessed be God!"
"Blessed be God!" the minister wept. And from the passage without came the sound of laughter and weeping and many voices, with a flutter of lights and flying skirts, and women's feet.
She stared at him wildly, doubtfully, her hand at her throat. "What?" she said, "he is not dead--M. de Tignonville?"
"No, he is alive," La Tribe answered, "he is alive." And he lifted up his hands as if he gave thanks.
"Alive?" she cried. "Alive! Oh, heaven is merciful! You are sure! You are sure?"
"Sure, Madame, sure. He was not in their hands. He was dismounted in the first shock, it seems, and, coming to himself after a time, crept away and reached St. Gilles, and came hither in a boat. But the enemy learned that he had not entered with us, and of this the priest wove his snare. Blessed be God, who put it into your heart to escape it!"
The Countess stood motionless and, with closed eyes, pressed her hands to her temples. Once she swayed as if she would fall her length, and Bigot sprang forward to support and save her. But she opened her eyes at that, sighed very deeply, and seemed to recover herself.
"You are sure?" she said faintly. "It is no trick?"
"No, madame, it is no trick," La Tribe answered. "M. de Tignonville is alive, and here."