and dizzy with the conflicting emotions with which he had been
battling, he missed his footing and fell, twisting his ankle, on the side
of the embankment. He rose with an effort and put his foot to the ground,
but a sharp pain obliged him to lean against the trunk of a neighboring
ash-tree. His foot felt as heavy as lead, and every time he tried to
straighten it his sufferings were intolerable. All he could do was to
drag himself along from one tree to another until he reached the path.

Exhausted by this effort; he sat down on the grass, unbuttoned his
gaiter, and carefully unlaced his boot. His foot had swollen
considerably. He began to fear he had sprained it badly, and wondered how
he could get back to Vivey. Should he have to wait on this lonely road
until some woodcutter passed, who would take him home? Montagnard, his
faithful companion, had seated himself in front of him, and contemplated
him with moist, troubled eyes, at the same time emitting short, sharp
whines, which seemed to say:

"What is the matter?" and, "How are we going to get out of this?"

Suddenly he heard footsteps approaching. He perceived a flutter of white
skirts behind the copse, and just at the moment he was blessing the lucky
chance that had sent some one in that direction, his eyes were gladdened
with a sight of the fair visage of Reine.

She was accompanied by a little girl of the village, carrying a basket
full of primroses and freshly gathered ground ivy. Reine was quite
familiar with all the medicinal herbs of the country, and gathered them
in their season, in order to administer them as required to the people of
the farm. When she was within a few feet of Julien, she recognized him,
and her brow clouded over; but almost immediately she noticed his altered
features and that one of his feet was shoeless, and divined that
something unusual had happened. Going straight up to him, she said:

"You seem to be suffering, Monsieur de Buxieres. What is the matter?"

"A--a foolish accident," replied he, putting on a careless manner. "I
fell and sprained my ankle."

The young girl knit her brows with an anxious expression; then, after a
moment's hesitation; she said:

"Will you let me see your foot? My mother understood about bone-setting,
and I have been told that I inherit her gift of curing sprains."

She drew from the basket an empty bottle and a handkerchief.

"Zelie," said she to the little damsel, who was standing astonished at