By this time, Mademoiselle de Pointdexter had recovered from her faint.  She held out her hand to Desmond, as he stood bareheaded beside the door.

“You have rescued me again, Monsieur Kennedy,” she said; “for, though life seems worthless to me now, you have saved me from far worse than death.  That you have so saved me, for my father’s sake as well as my own, I thank you with all my heart.”

“I would have you still hope, mademoiselle.  We know that Monsieur de la Vallee fell, but many men fall from their horses when wounded, even when the wound is not vital.  I am riding at once to Moulins, and trust to find him still alive.  Therefore, I pray you do not give up all hope.”

“I dare not let myself hope,” she said.  “It would be but to suffer another blow.  Still, I feel that I have so much to be thankful for that, grievous as my sorrow is, I shall try to bear it, with the help of the Holy Virgin.”

The party now separated.  The baron mounted one of the horses left behind by the brigands, and with the men from la Vallee started for Pointdexter; while Desmond, with Mike Callaghan, rode back to Aubusson.

There they slept for a few hours, and then obtained fresh horses and started for Moulins, where they arrived late in the evening.  They alighted at the Soleil, where Desmond had ordered the two men, who had gone on from Roanne, to bring the body of Monsieur de la Vallee.

“The gentleman is not here, sir,” the landlord said, as he came to the door.  “He was brought into the town by the men sent out by the mayor.  As, by his dress, he was evidently a gentleman of quality, they took him straight to the Couronne.”

“Was he alive?”

“Yes, sir; but, as I hear, the surgeons are unable to decide yet whether he will live.  The men you sent here arrived the day after he was brought in.  They told me that you would return, and put their horses here, but they are now in attendance on the wounded gentleman, who, it seems, is their lord.”

“Thank God, he is alive!” Desmond exclaimed.  “I have news for him that will do more than the surgeons can to restore him to himself.”

Leaving Mike to see the horses stabled, he hurried away to the other hotel.  He sent up his name, and one of the surgeons came down.

“Monsieur de la Vallee is very ill,” he said, “although his wound is not necessarily mortal.  This morning we succeeded in extracting the ball, but he is in a terribly weak state.  He is unable to speak above a whisper, and does not seem to care to make any effort.  It would appear that he even does not wish to live.”

“I have news that will put fresh life into him.”

“Then by all means go in and see him, sir.  We have thought that he is fast sinking; but if the news you bring can rouse him into making an effort to live, he may yet recover.  I will go in and give him a strong restorative, and tell him that you are here.”