Ere Guibert could answer, the curtains were thrust aside, the coach stopped, a lady’s head and hand appeared, and a female voice exclaimed, in much alarm, ‘Halt! Ho, you there, in our colours, come here. What is it? My brother here? Is he wounded?’
‘It is no wound, Madame,’ said Guibert, shoved forward by his English comrades, ‘it is M. le Baron de Ribaumont who is taken ill, and--ah! here is Monsieur Philippe.’
For Philip, seeing a thick black veil put back from the face of the most beautiful lady who had ever appeared to him, stepped forward, hat in hand, as she exclaimed, ‘Le Baron de Ribaumont! Can it be true? What means this? What ails him?’
‘It is his wound, Madame,’ said Philip, in his best French; ‘it has broken out again, and he has almost dropped from his horse from _defaillance_.’
‘Ah, bring him here--lay him on the cushions, we will have the honour of transporting him,’ cried the lady; and, regardless of the wet road, she sprang out of the coach, with her essences in her hand, followed by at least three women, two pages, and two little white dogs which ran barking towards the prostrate figure, but were caught up by their pages. ‘Ah, cousin, how dreadful,’ she cried, as she knelt down beside him, and held her essences towards him. Voice and scent revived him, and with a bewildered look and gesture half of thanks, half of refusal, he gazed round him, then rose to his feet without assistance, bent his head, and making a sign that he was unable to speak, turned towards his horse.
‘Cousin, cousin,’ exclaimed the lady, in whose fine black eyes tears were standing, ‘you will let me take you into the city--you cannot refuse.’
‘Berry, indeed you cannot ride,’ entreated Philip; ‘you must take her offer. Are you getting crazed at last?’
Berenger hesitated for a moment, but he felt himself again dizzy; the exertion of springing into his saddle was quite beyond him, and bending his head he submitted passively to be helped into the black and white coach. Humfrey, however, clutched Philip’s arm, and said impressively, ‘Have a care, sir; this is no other than the fine lady, sister to the murderous villain that set upon him. If you would save his life, don’t quit him, nor let her take him elsewhere than to our Ambassador’s. I’ll not leave the coach-door, and as soon as we are past the barriers, I’ll send Jack Smithers to make known we are coming.’