It was in the middle of the month of November, and the weather was exceedingly soft and balmy for the time of year.  The sky was blue, the few remaining leaves rustled on the trees, and an occasional bird whistled in the hedgerows.  Diana de Laurebourg was walking slowly along the path leading to Mussidan, when all at once she heard a rustling of branches.  She turned round sharply, and all the blood in her body seemed to rush suddenly to her heart, for through an opening in the hedge she caught sight of the man who for the past two months had occupied all her waking thoughts.  Norbert was waiting for something with all the eagerness of a sportsman, his finger on the trigger of his gun.

Here was the opportunity for which she had waited so long, and with such ill-concealed impatience; and yet she could derive no advantage from it, for what would happen?  Simply this:  Norbert would bow to her, and she would reply with a slight inclination of her head, and perhaps two months might pass away before she met him again.  Just as she was about to take some bold and decisive step she saw Norbert raise his gun and point it in her direction.  She endeavored to call out to him, but her voice failed her, and in another moment the report rang out, and she felt a sharp pang, like the touch of a red-hot iron upon her ankle.  With a wild shriek she threw up her arms and fell upon the pathway.  She did not lose her senses, for she heard a cry in response to her own, and the crashing of something forcing its way through the hedge.  Then she felt a hot breath upon her face, and then something cold and wet touched her cheek.  She opened her eyes languidly, and saw Bruno licking her face and hands.

At the same moment Norbert dashed through the hedge and stood before her.  At once she realized the advantage of her position and closed her eyes once more.  Norbert, as he hung over the seemingly unconscious form of this fair young creature, felt that his senses were deserting him, for he greatly feared that he had killed Mademoiselle de Laurebourg.  His first impulse was to fly precipitately, and his second to give what aid he could to his victim.  He knelt down by her, and, to his infinite relief, found that life was not extinct.  He raised her beautiful head.

“Speak to me, mademoiselle, I entreat you,” cried he.

All this time Diana was returning thanks to kind Providence for the fulfillment of her wishes.  After a time she made a slight move, and Norbert uttered an exclamation of joy.  Then, opening her beautiful eyes, she gazed upon the young man with the air of a person just awaking from a dream.

“It is I,” faltered the distracted young man.  “Norbert de Champdoce.  But forgive me, and tell me if you are in pain?”

Pity came over the wounded girl.  She gently drew herself away from the arm that encircled her, and said softly,—­

“It is I who ought to apologize for my foolish weakness; for I am really more frightened than hurt.”