In a moment Henry's piece crashed close at my ear, a keen pain ran like molten lead down my arm; and, spite of my hand upon her lips, Lucia gave a little cry. "I think I got it that time!" I heard Henry's voice say. "Count, run round and see. I shall go this way."
"Run, Lucy," I whispered, "they are coming. They must not find you."
"No," I said, lying to her, as a man does so easily to a woman. "I am not at all hurt. Have I hurt you?"
For I had thrust her behind me with all my might.
"I cannot tell yet whether you have hurt me or not," she said. "You men of the North are too strong!"
"But they come. Run, Lucy, beloved!" I said.
And she melted into the night, swiftly as a bird goes. Then I became aware of flying footsteps. It seemed that I had better not be found there, lest I should compromise the Countess with her brother, and find myself with a duel upon my hands in addition to my other embarrassments. So I set my toes upon the little projections of the stone parapet, taking advantage of the hooks which confined the creepers, and clutching desperately with my hands, so that I scrambled to the top just as the Count and Henry met below.
"Strike a light, Count," I heard Henry say; "I am sure I hit something. I heard a cry."
A light flamed up. There was the rustling noise of the broad leaves of the creeper being pushed aside.
"Here is blood!" cried Henry. "I was sure I hit something that time!"
"I tell you what it is, Monsieur," said the calm voice of the Count: "if you go through the world banging off shots on the chance of shooting white owls which you do not see, you are indeed likely to hit something. But whether you will like it after it is hit, is another matter."
Then I went indoors, for my arm was paining me. In my own room I eagerly examined the wound. It was but slight. A pellet or two had grazed my arm and ploughed their way along the thickness of the skin, but none had entered deeply. So I wrapped my arm in a little lint and some old linen, and went to bed.
I did not again see the Countess till noon on the morrow, when her carriage was at the door and she tripped down the steps to enter.
The Count stood by it, holding the door for her to enter--I midway down the broad flight of steps.