"Come, come," said Jeannin, surprised at such an explosion of grief from
a man accustomed to duels, and who on several similar occasions had been
far from displaying much tenderness of heart, "collect yourself, and
don't give way like a woman. Perhaps the wound is not mortal. Let us
try to stop the bleeding and call for help."

"No, no--"

"Are you mad?"

"Don't call, for Heaven's sake! The wound is here, near the heart. Your
handkerchief, Jeannin, to arrest the flow of blood. There--now help me
to lift him."

"What does that mean?" cried Jeannin, who had just laid his hand on the
chevalier. "I don't know whether I'm awake or asleep! Why, it's a---"

"Be silent, on your life! I shall explain everything--but now be silent;
there is someone looking at us."

There was indeed a man wrapped in a mantle standing motionless some steps
away.

"What are you doing here?" asked de Jars.

"May I ask what you are doing, gentlemen?" retorted Maitre Quennebert, in
a calm and steady voice.

"Your curiosity may cost you dear, monsieur; we are not in the habit of
allowing our actions to be spied on."