The crowd at length began to disperse; the windows were left, except now and then an urchin of a boy showed his ragged head at the grille.  Worn out with bodily fatigue and mental suffering, I was going to throw myself along upon the cold stones, when I saw the face of my own servant, who advanced in haste to the window of the prison, exclaiming with joy—­

“Courage, mon cher maitre; Monsieur Talbot n’est pas mort.”

“Not dead!” exclaimed I (falling unconsciously on my knees, and lifting up my clasped hands and haggard eyes to Heaven):  “not dead!  God be praised.  At least there is a hope that I may escape the crime of murder.”

Before I could say more, the mayor entered my cachot with the officers of the police, and informed me that a proces-verbal had been held; that my friend had been able to give the clearest answers to all their questions; and that it appeared from the evidence of Monsieur Talbot himself, that it was an affair d’honneur, fairly decided; that the brace of pistols found in the water had confirmed his assertions.  “And therefore, Monsieur,” continued the mayor, “whether your friend lives or dies, tout a ete fait en regle, et vous etes libre.”

So saying, he bowed very politely, and pointed to the door; nor was I so ceremonious as to beg him to show me the way; out I ran, and flew to the apartment of Talbot, who had sent my servant to say how much he wished to see me.  I found him in bed.  As I entered, he held out his hand to me, which I covered with kisses, and bathed with my tears.

“Oh, Talbot!” said I, “can you forgive me?”

He squeezed my hand, and from exhaustion let it fall.  The surgeon led me out of the room, saying, “All depends on his being kept quiet.”  I then learned that he owed his life to two circumstances—­the first was, my having bound my neckcloth round the wound; the other was, that the duel took place below high-water mark.  The tide was rising when I left him; and the cold waves, as they rippled against his body, had restored him to animation.  In this state he was found by his servant, not many minutes before the flood would have covered him, for he had not strength to remove out of its way.  I ascertained also that the ball had entered his liver, and had passed out without doing farther injury.

I now dressed myself, and devoutly thanking God for his miraculous preservation, took my seat by the bed-side of the patient, which I never quitted until his perfect recovery.  When this was happily completed, I wrote to my father and to Clara, giving both an exact account of the whole transaction.  Clara, undeceived, made no scruple of acknowledging her attachment.  Talbot was requested by his father to return home.  I accompanied him as far as Calais, where we parted; and in a few weeks after, I had the pleasure of hearing that my sister had become his wife.

Left to myself, I returned slowly, and much depressed in spirits, to Quillac’s; where, ordering post-horses, I threw myself into my travelling carriage, into which my valet had, by my orders, previously placed my luggage.