quis, though himself wounded, might have dealt his
adversary a deadlier wound.

She found her voice at last, and at the same moment signalled to the
driver of the caleche to stop.

As it was pulled to a standstill, M. d'Ormesson alighted, and so met
madame in the little space between the two carriages.

"Where is M. Moreau?" was the question with which she surprised him.

"Following at his leisure, no doubt, madame," he answered, recovering.

"He is not hurt?"

"Unfortunately it is we who..." M. d'Ormesson was beginning, when from
behind him M. de La Tour d'Azyr's voice cut in crisply:

"This interest on your part in M. Moreau, dear Countess..."

He broke off, observing a vague challenge in the air with which she
confronted him. But indeed his sentence did not need completing.

There was a vaguely awkward pause. And then she looked at M. d'Ormesson.
Her manner changed. She offered what appeared to be an explanation of
her concern for M. Moreau.

"Mademoiselle de Kercadiou is with me. The poor child has fainted."

There was more, a deal more, she would have said just then, but for M.
d'Ormesson's presence.

Moved by a deep solicitude for Mademoiselle de Kertadiou, de La Tour
d'Azyr sprang up despite his wound.

"I am in poor case to render assistance, madame," he said, an apologetic
smile on his pale face. "But..."

With the aid of d'Ormesson, and in spite of the latter's protestations,
he got down from the caleche, which then moved on a little way, so as to
leave the road clear--for another carriage that was approaching from the
direction of the Bois.

And thus it happened that when a few moments later that approaching
cabriolet overtook and passed the halted vehicles, Andre-Louis beheld a
very touching scene. Standing up to obtain a better view, he saw Aline
in a half-swooning condition--she was beginning to revive by now--seated
in the doorway of the carriage, supported by Mme. de Plougastel. In
an attitude of deepest concern, M. de La Tour d'Azyr, his wound
notwithstanding, was bending over the girl, whilst behind him stood M.
d'Ormesson and madame's footman.

The Countess looked up and saw him as he was driven past. Her face
lighted; almost it seemed to him she was about to greet him or to call
him, wherefore, to avoid a difficulty, arising out of the presence there
of his late antagonist, he anticipated her by bowing frigidly--for his
mood was frigid, the more frigid by virtue of what he saw--and