Marguerite, as she had been
instructed, had prepared the Darbois's room to receive the wounded
man. Esperance, exhausted, was put to bed, and was soon asleep,
watched over by Mlle. Frahender, who prayed silently, counting over
her rosary.
They had difficulty in moving Albert Styvens. His great body was heavy
and difficult to raise. Finally, after they had washed and bound up
his head, they succeeded in undressing him and making him as
comfortable as possible in the great bed.
A quarter of an hour later he opened his eyes, and, in response to the
anxious faces leaning over him, smiled sweetly.
"And she?" he asked in a feeble voice.
"Thanks to your courage, she is all right," said Mme. Darbois. "You have
the blessings of a grateful mother."
She put the young man's hand to her lips. Two warm tears fell down on
it. The young man trembled, then his face grew radiant. They followed
his glance. On the threshold stood Esperance, leaning upon Genevieve.
A half-hour of profound sleep had completely restored her. She had
waked suddenly, and seeing Genevieve and Mlle. Frahender beside her,
had asked, "How is Count Albert?"
And in spite of the protests of both women, she had got up. She wanted
to be sure, she wanted to see!
The wounded man looked at her fixedly.
"Tell me that I am not dreaming," he implored.
"Albert," she murmured, going up to him, "I owe you my life."
She knelt beside the bed and her delicate hand rested on his strong
hand.
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