The Comte de Verneuil raised himself on his elbow and looked at him in a wild way. I too should have liked to grip someone's arm, for the sight of the man sent a shudder through me, but I braced myself up under the consoling idea that I was protecting Joanna.
"You are not dead then? I did not kill you?" said the Comte de Verneuil.
"No, since I am here to tell you that I am alive."
The sweat poured off the man's face. He lay back exhausted.
"I do not know why," he gasped, "but I thought I had killed you." He closed his eyes.
"That is enough," said the nurse.
Without a word, we all returned to the drawing-room. It was an astounding comedy.
"I am grateful," said Joanna to my master. "I wish there were some means of repaying you."
"I thought," said he, with a touch of irony which she did not notice, "that it was I who was paying for a wrong I did you."
She drew herself up and surveyed him from head to foot, with a little air of disdain.