It is impossible to describe the three or four long thrilling shrieks that burst from the lips of Madame de Villardin as her child disappeared. For one instant they overpowered me; but the next I darted forward to the bank. Luckily the stream was flowing towards me, and, though deep and rapid, was smooth enough. I cannot remember the time when I could not swim, and the only difficulty was to discover the object of our search. The first plunge over had made her sink, and nothing appeared as my eye ran along the river, but the flat glistening surface of the stream.
An instant after, however, the little girl rose again, and with a faint cry, held out her arms at the distance of about twenty yards from me. I plunged in, with two or three strokes brought myself to the spot, and finding that she had sunk again, dived down where I caught the gleaming of her clothes; and, throwing my left arm round her, shot up to the surface, holding her head above my own. By the convulsive grasp with which she seized my neck and hair, I found that she was still living: and the joy which that conviction gave me was indescribable, when, on rising above the water, I saw the scene that the bank presented. Madame de Villardin, on her knees, with her hands clasped, and eyes straining upon the spot where I had disappeared, was the first object that met my view; but a little nearer stood the Duke, called to the spot by the shrieks of his wife; while, with the frenzy of agony in his whole aspect, he was evidently only restrained from plunging over also by the firm grasp which the priest had laid upon his arm. Behind him appeared the form of Father Ferdinand, raising up his left hand with impressive energy; and I could not but think he was predicting I would save the child. The whole scene was made up by a number of servants running down towards the spot, together with the woody irregular banks, the bright green shades of the young leaves which clothed some of the trees, and the calm, bright sunshine, streaming cheerfully over all, as if there were no such things as danger, and terror, and care, and distress, in all the many scenes he looks upon.
A shout of joy, that made the banks echo again, burst from the spectators, when we rose above the surface of the stream, especially when, by the ease with which my old habits of swimming enabled me to bear my little charge, they saw that she was placed beyond further risk; and when a motion of her hand towards her father evinced that she was uninjured from that which had already occurred. All crowded round the spot to which I directed my course; and Monsieur de Villardin, stooping down as I approached, caught his child in his arms, and pressed her again and again to his heart. For some time Madame de Villardin wept in silence, holding one little hand of her rescued child, and kissing her fair cheek as she lay sobbing and agitated in her father's bosom. The priest looked on for a moment or two without speaking; but then calling to their remembrance Him to whom their thanks were first due, he offered a short prayer of praise and gratitude in their name to the Almighty Giver of all good.