long he was obliged to take his turn in carrying Estelle, whose weight
had become too much for the worn out Hebert. He was alarmed to find,
on transferring her, that her head sank on his shoulder as if in a
sleep of exhaustion, which, however, shielded her from much terror.
For, as they arrived at a cluster of five or six tents, built of clay
and the branches of trees, out rushed a host of women, children, and
large fierce dogs, all making as much noise as they were capable of.
The dogs flew at the strange white forms, no doubt utterly new to them.
Victorine was severely bitten, and Lanty, trying to rescue her, had his
leg torn.

These two were driven into one hut; Estelle, who was evidently
considered as the greatest prize, was taken into another and rather
better one, together with the steward and the Abbe. The Moors, who had
swum ashore, had probably told them that she was the Frankish Bey's
daughter; for this, miserable place though it was, appeared to be the
best hut in the hamlet, nor was she deprived of her clothes. A sort of
bournouse or haik, of coarse texture and very dirty, was given to each
of the others, and some rye cakes baked in the ashes. Poor little
Estelle turned away her head at first, but Hebert, alarmed at her
shivering in her wet clothes, contrived to make her swallow a little,
and then took off the soaked dress, and wrapped her in the bournouse.
She was by this time almost unconscious from weariness, and made no
resistance to the unaccustomed hands, or the disgusting coarseness and
uncleanness of her wrapper, but dropped asleep the moment he laid her
down, and he applied himself to trying to dry her clothes at a little
fire of sticks that had been lighted outside the open space, round
which the huts stood.

The Abbe too had fallen asleep, as Hebert managed to assure poor Lanty,