“Yes, Sir; I will see about it directly.”

“One word, my dear, good Madame Dupont.  You are a woman of sense, and excellent judgment.  Now I have put your husband in the way to keep, if he will, his situation as bailiff of the estate—­”

“Is it possible?  What gratitude do we not owe you!  Without this place what would become of us at our time of life?”

“I have only saddled my promise with two conditions—­mere trifles—­he will explain all that to you.”

“Ah, sir! we shall regard you as our deliverer.”

“You are too good.  Only, on two little conditions—­”

“If there were a hundred, sir we should gladly accept them.  Think what we should be without this place—­penniless—­absolutely penniless!”

“I reckon upon you then; for the interest of your husband, you will try to persuade him.”

“Missus!  I say, missus! here’s master come back,” cried a servant, rushing into the chamber.

“Has he many with him?”

“No, missus; he is alone.”

“Alone! alone?”

“Quite alone, missus.”

A few moments after, M. Dupont entered the room; his clothes were streaming with water; to keep his hat on in the midst of the storm, he had tied it down to his head by means of his cravat, which was knotted under his chin; his gaiters were covered with chalky stains.

“There I have thee, my dear love!” cried his wife, tenderly embracing him.  “I have been so uneasy!”

“Up to the present moment—­three saved.”

“God be praised, my dear M. Dupont!” said Rodin; “at least your efforts will not have been all in vain.”

“Three, only three?” said Catherine.  “Gracious heaven!”

“I only speak of those I saw myself, near the little creek of Goelands.  Let us hope there may be more saved on other parts of the coast.”

“Yes, indeed; happily, the shore is not equally steep in all parts.”

“And where are these interesting sufferers, my dear sir?” asked Rodin, who could not avoid remaining a few instants longer.

“They are mounting the cliffs, supported by our people.  As they cannot walk very fast, I ran on before to console my wife, and to take the necessary measures for their reception.  First of all, my dear, you must get ready some women’s clothes.”

“There is then a woman amongst the persons saved?”

“There are two girls—­fifteen or sixteen years of age at the most—­mere children—­and so pretty!”

“Poor little things!” said Rodin, with an affectation of interest.

“The person to whom they owe their lives is with them.  He is a real hero!”

“A hero?”

“Yes; only fancy—­”

“You can tell me all this by and by.  Just slip on this dry warm dressing-gown, and take some of this hot wine.  You are wet through.”