"But how?-What are you doing here?"

"Monseigneur, oh, how happy I am” said Guyonne, overcome with joy, and forgetting her assumed character. "Finally"

The young woman covered the hand of the equerry

kisses.

with

"Finally?" resumed he, when she was somewhat calmed. "Yes, monseigneur! How good the Almighty is, to have accorded me the favor-"

"Speak, Yvon," said John de Ganay in a tone, somewhat severe. Then he added more gently:

"What has become of you?"

"In returning from the excursion into the interior of the island," said Guyonne, "I was left behind, and hastened to join you; but in running, my foot slipped, I fell, and my leg was broken."

"You have broken your leg?”

"Alas, sir, I must have offended the Lord. Let his holy will be done!

"I passed the night where I fell-incapable of making any movement; so I resigned myself to die of grief, or hunger, when next morning I saw a strange being approach who seemed to me a demon. Believing that it was death, I asked pardon of God for my sins; but as soon as he saw me, he concealed himself, then returned slowly, then he concealed himself again, returned the third time, advancing nearer and nearer."

"It was a savage ?" anxiously inquired the viscount.

"No, monseigneur; he is a Frenchman."

"A Frenchman!"

"Yes, he is completely mute and insane, the poor man! I believe, he must have been ship-wrecked many years ago, and had succeeded in gaining this island, where the instinct of preservation taught him the means of providing for existence."

"And you-Yvon ?"

“Oh, master, your kindness to a poor serf is too much. He brought me into his cabin, and supported—”

"But your fracture ?"

"My leg still causes much suffering," replied the young

woman.

"Is the bone set?"

66

Yes, master, he set it himself. It was not without pain; but I have prayed to God so much to preserve my life and health that I might consecrate them to you that he has deigned to accord me his powerful aid."

"Where is this man?"

"He has gone out to fish, sir."

"Will he return soon?"

"I could not say; but the sight of you will make him—”

"Run away," said the viscount, observing that she was loath to proceed.

"I fear so, monseigneur."

John de Ganay reflected for a few seconds.

"It is impossible for you to walk."

"Impossible, monsieur !"

"Wait till this evening; I will come back for you to bring you to the camp.”

After having again exchanged some words with the pretended Yvon, John de Ganay left the tent, and returned towards his companions, telling Grosbec to say nothing about the adventure.

CHAPTER XII.

DEATH OF BRISE-TOUT.

As Viscount de Ganay and the ex-lancer approached the place where they had left the bandits, he remarked that the latter were greatly agitated. Formed into a circle, they seemed engaged in a warm altercation. They stamped, talked loud, swayed to and fro-in short, had all the appearance, even at a distance, of people ready to strike each other.

Grosbec was the first to distinguish this extraordinary scene; he called the attention of his master to it.

"Monsieur !" said he.

John de Ganay whose ideas wandered in the region of the imagination, started, and raised his head.

"Master," resumed his interlocutor, "I believe that there is something unusual passing there below."

The young lord looked in the direction in which his attendant had pointed his finger.

"A quarrel, doubtless," said he; "come, let us hurry.” They silently redoubled their steps, and soon attained the first rank of the circle, formed by the exiles.

The minds of the latter were so much absorbed in other matters that they continued their clamors and gestures without paying any attention to the presence of the viscount, who was under the necessity of calling on them to separate, in order to ascertain the cause of trouble.

At first his order had no effect; but Grosbec, having reiterated it in a commanding tone, they thought it best, to yield, and John entered the actual scene of the difficulty.

A most tragical drama was on the point of being acted, whilst the speakers howled diabolically round two individuals whose aspect was as different as the employment in which they figured.

One of the personages was no other than our old acquaintance, Brise-tout; but the second was a stranger, singularly acoutred with a dress composed of divers' skins, sewed together. He wore this costume like a mantle; his head, his legs, and his arms being naked. Nothing could be more grotesque than the physiognomy of this individual. Thick, curling hair covered his head and descended in long, uncombed tufts on his shoulders, tanned by the heat. It served as a frame for his meagre gruff countenance which had an infantine appearance, although age had already marked his features with an indellible stamp.

The position of the unknown was that of one condemned to death,

His hands were tied behind his back, and a coarse rope was round his neck, the end of which, thrown over a branch