the further
portion of the path.

I came to a place where the underbrush at the side of the path was
somewhat beaten aside. I thought I could distinguish where some person
or animal had gone from this place, tramping a sort of barely traceable
furrow through the tangle. I followed this course: it led me back to the
glade. Doubtless the horse had made it.

I was about to go back along the path, when I noticed a similar
trodden-down appearance along one side of the stream where it left the
glade. Hoping little, I examined this. It brought me, after a few yards,
to a clear piece of turf swelling up around the roots of an oak. And
lying there, on the grassy incline, with her head at the foot of the
oak, was the Countess, as silent and motionless as death, with blood
upon her forehead.

My own heart leaping, I knelt to discover if hers still moved. Her body
stirred at my touch. I dipped my handkerchief in the stream, and gently
washed away the blood, but revealed no cut until I examined beneath the
hair, when I found a long shallow gash. I hastily cleansed her hair of
the blood as well as I could, with such care as not to cause the wound
to flow anew. All the time I was doing this, my joy at finding her alive
and free was such that I could have sobbed aloud.

She awoke and recognized me, first smiling faintly, but in a moment
parting her lips in sorrowful surprise, and then, after glancing round,
giving a sigh of profound weariness.

"Am I then still alive?" she murmured.

"Yes, Madame;--I thank God from my heart."

"It is His will," she said. "I had hoped--I had thought my life in this
world was ended."

"Oh, do not say that. What can you mean?"

"When they surrounded me--the men who sprang up at the sides of the
path--I thought, 'Yes, these are the robbers the gentleman spoke
of,--God has been kind and has sent them to waylay me: if I resist, I
may be killed, and surely I have a right to resist.' So I drew my sword,
and made a thrust at the nearest. He struck me with some weapon--I did
not even notice what it was, I was so glad when it came swiftly--when I
felt I could not save myself. The blow was like a kiss--the kiss of
death, welcoming me out of this life of sad and bitter prospects."

"Oh, Madame, how can you talk in this way, when you are still young and
beautiful, and there are those who love you?"

"You do not know all, Henri. What is there for me in life? I am weak to
complain--weak to long for death