Marie had hardly spoken from the moment when Henri dragged her from her
bed, to that in which he helped her in the waggon; but after she had
been sitting for a while, she indulged in a flood of tears, which she
had restrained as long as she felt that her life depended on her
exertions, and then calling Henri to her side, she thanked him, as she
so well knew how to do, for all he had done for her.
"You have saved my life, dearest, now," said she, "and ten times more
than my life; but I will not say that I love you better than I did
before. Had I not known that it was your arms which were around me, I
must have died when that horrid countenance glared over me on the
stairs. Have I dreamt since, or was I really looking upon that face,
when the agony of death came across it?" And as she asked the question,
she closed her eyes, and her whole body trembled violently.
"I will tell you all that happened another time, love," said he; "we
will not talk of these things now. A day or two at Durbelliere will
restore you to your spirits, and then we will rejoice over our escape.
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