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.
Esperance began to cry bitterly.
Meantime Maurice was returning with the victoria in which were M. and
Madame Darbois. The wagon was sent on its way very slowly. Francois
stepped down quickly and took his daughter in his arms, intending to
carry her to the carriage.
"My father, I am able to walk...." she stifled with sobs. "But he...."
The philosopher put her in the victoria beside her mother, and begged
Jean to stay with them. Then he rejoined the cart, and climbed up
beside Maurice who was supporting the limp head on the hay.
The professor had studied a little medicine. He could see that the wound
was grave, but the young man was robust and he allowed himself to hope.
Maurice recounted the accident with all its details.
"Brave fellow," said Francois, taking the cold hand. And tears, he
could scarcely restrain, began to fill his eyes.
Soon they all arrived at the farm.
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