“Wounded!”

She poor child was completely upset.

“Oh! do not be frightened at that,” said Phoebus, carelessly, “it was nothing. A quarrel, a sword cut; what is that to you?”

“What is that to me?” exclaimed Fleur-de-Lys, raising her beautiful eyes filled with tears.

“Oh! you do not say what you think when you speak thus. What sword cut was that? I wish to know all.”

“Well, my dear fair one, I had a falling out with Mah� F�dy, you know? the lieutenant of Saint-Germain-en-Laye, and we ripped open a few inches of skin for each other. That is all.”

The mendacious captain was perfectly