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78 was scattered about. A step on the threshold made her start up in terror: it was only Pedro. A few words explained their mutual situation. He had been unable to return, but had watched the soldiers depart, and had come from the village with provision and offers of assistance. Both went to the arbour; and while with his axe and the assistance of a villager he opened a path through the boughs, Beatrice entered to watch the slumber she now most thankfully desired to break. She bathed the face of the sleeper with some essence, raised her in her arms, and called upon her name. As if to reward her for her last night's forbearance, Donna Margaretta stirred with the first movement, and opened her eyes. Still, she was evidently oppressed by sleep, though cold and shivering. Pedro and his companion carried her to the house—a couch was formed by the fireside—and Beatrice never left her till thoroughly warmed and awakened. It was evident that she, at least, had sustained no injury. Beatrice rushed into the next room to throw herself on her knees in thanksgiving. Fatigue, distress, loss, were all absorbed in one overpowering feeling of gratitude. But the reaction was too strong: her nurse now arrived;