wound. For me it was--in my defence. Oh! how shall I ever repay you?--
how thank you for my life?"

"No thanks, ma'amselle, are necessary. It was the fulfilment of a
simple duty on my part. I ran no great risk in saving you."

"No risk, monsieur! Every risk--from the knife of an assassin--from the
waves. No risk! But, monsieur, I can assure you my gratitude shall be
in proportion to your generous gallantry. My heart tells me so;--alas,
poor heart! it is filled at once with gratitude and grief."

"Yes, ma'amselle, I understand you have much to lament, in the loss of a
faithful servant."

"Faithful servant, monsieur, say, rather, friend. Faithful, indeed!
Since my poor father's death, he has been my father. All my cares were
his; all my affairs in his hands. I knew not trouble. But now, alas!
I know not what is before me."

Suddenly changing her manner, she eagerly inquired--

"When you last saw him, monsieur, you say he was struggling with the
ruffian who wounded you?"

"He was.--It was the last I saw of either. There is no hope--none--the
boat went down a few moments after. Poor Antoine! poor Antoine!"

Again she burst into tears, for she had evidently been weeping before.
I could offer no consolation. I did not attempt it. It was better she
should weep. Tears alone could relieve her.

"The coachman, Pierre, too--one of the most devoted of my people--he,
too, is lost. I grieve for him as well; but Antoine was my father's
friend--he was mine--Oh! the loss--the loss;--friendless; and yet,
perhaps, I _may soon need friends. Pauvre Antoine_!"

She wept as she uttered these phrases. Aurore was also in tears. I
could not restrain myself--the eyes of childhood returned, and I too
wept.

This solemn scene was at length brought to a termination by Eugenie, who
appearing suddenly to gain the mastery over her grief, approached the
bedside.

"Monsieur," said she, "I fear for some time you will find in me a sad
host. I cannot easily forget my friend, but I know you will pardon me
for thus indulging in a moment of sorrow. For the present, adieu! I
shall return soon, and see that you are properly waited upon. I have
lodged you in this little place, that you might be out of reach of
noises that would disturb you. Indeed I am to blame for this present
intrusion. The doctor has ordered you not to be visited, but--I--I
could not rest till I had seen the preserver of my life, and offered him
my tha