Madame de Bergenheim pushed her aside and threw herself upon the sofa.  Her first feeling was a horrible joy at not hearing the name of Octave; but she tried to smother her hysterical utterances by pressing her mouth against the cushion upon which her face was leaning.

A noise of voices was heard in the vestibule; the greatest confusion seemed to reign among the people outside.  At last, several men entered the drawing room; at their head was Monsieur de Camier, whose ruddy face had lost all its color.

“Do not be frightened, ladies,” said he, in a trembling voice; “do not be frightened.  It is only a slight accident, without any danger.  Monsieur de Bergenheim was wounded in the hunt,” he continued, addressing Mademoiselle de Corandeuil.

At last, the folding-doors were thrown open, and two servants appeared, bearing the Baron upon a mattress.

When the servants had deposited their burden in front of one of the windows, Aline threw herself upon her brother’s body, uttering heartrending cries.  Madame de Bergenheim did not stir; she lay upon the sofa with eyes and ears buried in the cushions, and seemed deaf and blind to all that surrounded her.  Mademoiselle de Corandeuil was the only one who preserved her presence of mind.  Controlling her emotion, she leaned over the Baron and sought for some sign of life.

“Is he dead?” she asked, in a low voice, of Monsieur de Camier.

“No, Mademoiselle,” replied the latter, in a tone which announced that he had little hope.

“Has a physician been sent for?”

“To Remiremont, Epinal, everywhere.”

At this moment Aline uttered a cry of joy.  Bergenheim had just stirred, brought to life, perhaps, by the pressure of his sister’s arms.  He opened his eyes and, closed them several times; at last his energy triumphed over his sufferings; he sat up on his improvised cot and, leaning upon his left elbow, he glanced around the room.

“My wife!” said he, in a weak voice.

Madame de Bergenheim arose and forced her way through the group that surrounded the mattress, and silently took her place beside her husband.  Her features had changed so terribly within a few moments that a murmur of pity ran through the group of men that filled the room.

“Take my sister away,” said Christian, disengaging his hand from the young girl, who was covering it with kisses and tears.

“My brother!  I can not leave my brother!” exclaimed Aline, as she was dragged away rather than led to her room.

“Leave me for a moment,” continued the Baron; “I wish to speak to my wife.”

Mademoiselle de Corandeuil gave Monsieur de Gamier a questioning glance, as if to ask if it were best to grant this request.

“We can do nothing before the doctors arrive,” said the latter, in a low voice, “and perhaps it would be imprudent to oppose him.”