It was Madame Degardy.

She had seen the sobbing figure inside the tent, but, with the occasional wisdom of the foolish of this world, she had not been less considerate than the children of light.
With brusque, kindly taps of her stick, she drove the girl to her own tent, and bade her sleep: but sleep was not for Elise that night; and in the grey dawn, while yet no one was stirring in the camp, she passed slowly down the valley to her home.
Madame Chalice was greatly troubled also.

Valmond's life was saved.

In three days he was on his feet, eager and ardent again, and preparing to go to the village; but what would the end of it all be?
She knew of De la Riviere's intentions, and she foresaw a crisis.

If Valmond were in very truth a Napoleon, all might be well, though this crusade must close here.