There was a severe cut on his forehead as well as his cheek; his face was pale and streaked with blood, while the hastily-improvised bandages which were tied under his chin, by no means improved his personal appearance.

His head ached with the pain, and his eyes smarted with the strong sunlight to which he had been exposed all the day, but his natural gaiety was undiminished, and he laughed as he answered-- "_Chere Mademoiselle_, you are too good to me! It is a piece of good fortune that Sigurd threw that stone--yes! since it brings me your pity! But do not trouble; a little cold water and a fresh handkerchief is all I need." But Thelma was already practicing her own simple surgery for his benefit.

With deft, soft fingers she laid bare the throbbing wound,--washed and dressed it carefully and skillfully,--and used with all such exceeding gentleness, that Duprez closed his eyes in a sort of rapture during the operation, and wished it could last longer.

Then taking the glass of wine her father brought in obedience to her order, she said in a tone of mild authority-- "Now, you will drink this Monsieur Pierre, and you will rest quite still till it is time to go back to the yacht; and to-morrow you will not feel any pain, I am sure.

And I do think it will not be an ugly scar for long." "If it is," answered Pierre, "I shall say I received it in a duel! Then I shall be great--glorious! and all the pretty ladies will love me!" She laughed,--but looked grave a moment afterwards.
"You must never say what is not true," she said.