He shook his head.

"Always the same," he said, "always the same: for a king, for a friend, for a woman! That is the Le Moyne." But he was busy as he spoke.

With the native chivalry of the woodsman, he cared first for the girl.

Between her lips he thrust his drinking-horn and held her head against his shoulder.
"My little ma'm'selle-ma'm'selle!" he said.

"Wake up.