‘This way,’ called Berenger, himself setting the example, and finding no difficulty; the water did not rise above his boots, and the current was not strong.  He had reached the shingly isle when he looked round for his companions; Humfrey and Philip were close behind him; but, in spite of the loud ‘gare!’ of the guide, Aime, or his horse,—­for each was equally senseless with alarm,—­were making inwards; the horse was trying to tread on the sandbank, which gave way like the water itself, under its frantic struggles—­ there was a loud cry—­a shrill, unmistakable woman’s shriek—­the horse was sinking—­a white face and helpless form were being carried out on the waves, but not before Berenger had flung himself from his horse, thrown off his cloak and sword, and dashed into the water; and in the lapse of a few moments he struggled back to the island, where were Philip and Humfrey, leg-deep in water:  the one received his burthen, the other helped him to land.

‘On, gentlemen, not a moment to lose,’ cried the guide; and Berenger, still panting, flung himself on his horse, held out his arms, gathered the small, almost inanimate figure upon the horse’s neck before him, and in a few minutes more they had crossed the perilous passage, and were on a higher bank where they could safely halt; and Philip, as he came to help his brother, exclaimed, ’What a fool the boy is!’

‘Hush!’ said Berenger, gravely, as they laid the figure on the ground.

’What! he can’t have been drowned in that moment.  We’ll bring him to.’

‘Hands off!’ said Berenger, kneeling over the gasping form, and adding in a lower voice, ‘Don’t you see?’ He would his hand in the long drenched hair, and held it up, with cheeks burning like fire, and his scar purple.

‘A woman!—­what?—­who?’ Then suddenly divining, he exclaimed, ’The jade!’ and started with wide eyes.

‘Stand back,’ said Berenger; ‘she is coming to herself.’

Perhaps she had been more herself than he knew, for, as he supported her head, her hand stole over his and held it fast.  Full of consternation, perplexity, and anger as he was, he could not but feel a softening pity towards a creature so devoted, so entirely at his mercy.  At the moment when she lay helpless against him, gasps heaving her breast under her manly doublet, her damp hair spread on his knees, her dark eyes in their languor raised imploring his face, her cold hand grasping his, he felt as if this great love were a reality, and as if he were hunting a shadow; and, as if fate would have it so, he must save and gratify one whose affection must conquer his, who was so tender, so beautiful—­even native generosity seemed on her side.  But in the midst, as in his perplexity he looked up over the gray sea, he seemed to see the picture so often present to his mind of the pale, resolute girl, clasping her babe to her breast, fearless of the advancing sea, because true and faithful.  And at that thought faith and prayer rallied once again round his heart, shame at the instant’s wavering again dyed his cheek; he recalled himself, and speaking the more coldly and gravely because his heart was beating over hotly, he said, ’Cousin, you are better.  It is but a little way to Nissard.’