ow she and I had lost our
way in the woods; how I, under the impression that her horse had bolted,
had unseated her in my eager anxiety to stop the animal; how a slight
altercation had ensued, after which, with a little feminine temper,
foolish enough, she had wished to mount her mare again without help; how
she had even spoken unkindly to me, not meaning a word of what she said,
for she loved me like a brother; how, deeply hurt by her harshness, I
had moved away a few yards to obey her; and how, just as she was about
to follow me, grieved herself at our childish quarrel, she had felt a
violent shock in her breast, and had fallen almost without hearing any
report. It was impossible for her to say in which direction she was
looking, or from which side the shot had come.

"That is all that happened," she added. "Of all people I am least
able to explain this occurrence. In my soul and conscience I can only
attribute it to the carelessness of one of the hunting party, who is
afraid to confess. Laws are so severe. And it is so difficult to prove
the truth."

"So, mademoiselle, you do not think that your cousin was the author of
this attempt?"

"No, sir, certainly not! I am no longer delirious, and I should not have
let myself be brought before you if I had felt that my mind was at all
weak."

"Apparently, then, you consider that a state of mental aberration was
responsible for the revelations you made to Patience, to Mademoiselle
Leblanc, your companion, and also, perhaps, to Abbe Aubert."

"I made no revelations," she replied emphatically, "either to the worthy
Patience, the venerable abbe, or my servant Leblanc. If the meaningless
words we utter in a state of delirium are to be called 'revelations,'
all the people who frighten us in our dreams would have to be condemned
to death. How could I have revealed facts of which I never had any
knowledge?"

"But at the time you received the wound, and fell from your horse, you
said: 'Bernard, Bernard! I should never have thought that you would kill
me!'"

"I do not remember having said so; and, even if I did, I cannot conceive
that any one would attach much importance to the impressions of a
person who had suddenly been struck to the ground, and whose mind was
annihilated, as it were. All that I know is that Bernard de Mauprat
would lay down his life for my father or myself; which does not make it
very probable that he wanted to murder me. Great God! what would be his
obj