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ABRIELLE’S heart beat very fast in the few moments she stood trying vainly to find words to speak, and she was conscious of little save a whirl of strange emotions in which predominated a sort of guilty pleasure at meeting again the stranger who had so filled her thoughts in the last hours.

He broke the silence.

"I trust that scoundrel did not hurt you, mademoiselle?" he said, voice and eyes alike full of solicitude, as she noticed in her swift flitting upward glance when he spoke.

"No, monsieur," she replied, and could say no more.

"I have set a mark on him to know him by, and he will have a reckoning to settle. By your leave, I will see to this poor fellow's hurt. I am something of a surgeon. A soldier must be many things," and with a bow he went over to Denys and bent over him.

This act relieved Gabrielle's embarrassment, and fear for Denys made her less conscious of her own confusing thoughts. After a moment's hesitation she knelt down on the other side of the wounded man.

"My poor Denys," she murmured.

Her companion with quick deft touch found the wound, and after examining it, staunched the blood which was flowing freely.

"An ill sight for your eyes, mademoiselle," he said.

"I am a soldier's daughter, monsieur, and accustomed to the treatment of the sick. Is the hurt serious, think you?"