They knocked me on the head and left me for dead, but if monsieur would assist me I----" Marteau stepped over to him, bent down and lifted him up.

He was a stout, hardy looking peasant boy, pale cheeked, with blood clotted around his forehead from a blow that he had received.

Feverish fire sparkled in his eyes.
"If monsieur wishes help to put these brutes out of the way command me," he said passionately.
"We will do nothing with them at present," answered Marteau.
"Quick, Laure, the knife," whispered the Englishman.
The Frenchman heard him, however, and wheeled around.
"Mademoiselle," he cried, "on your honor I charge you not to abuse the liberty I have secured for you and that I allow you." "But, my friends----" "If you had depended on your friends you would even now be----" he paused--"as my sister," he added with terrific intensity.
"Your pleasure shall be mine," said the young woman.
"If I could have a drink of wine!" said the young peasant, sinking down into a chair.
"There is a flask which they did not get in the pocket of one of the officers yonder," said the young Frenchwoman, looking sympathetically at the poor exhausted lad.
Marteau quickly recovered it, in spite of the protestations of the officer, who looked his indignation at this little betrayal by the woman.

He gave some of it to the peasant and then offered it to mademoiselle and, upon her declining it, took a long drink himself.

He was weak and trembling with all he had gone through.
"Now, what's to be our further course ?" asked the countess.
"I don't know yet.