joining
you there."

Julie set out. She took her maid with her, and the old soldier galloped
beside the carriage as escort. At nightfall, as they changed horses for
the last stage before Blois, Julie grew uneasy. All the way from Amboise
she had heard the sound of wheels behind them, a carriage following hers
had kept at the same distance. She stood on the step and looked out
to see who her traveling companions might be, and in the moonlight saw
Arthur standing three paces away, gazing fixedly at the chaise which
contained her. Again their eyes met. The Countess hastily flung herself
back in her seat, but a feeling of dread set her pulses throbbing. It
seemed to her, as to most innocent and inexperienced young wives, that
she was herself to blame for this love which she had all unwittingly
inspired. With this thought came an instinctive terror, perhaps a sense
of her own helplessness before aggressive audacity. One of a man's
strongest weapons is the terrible power of compelling a woman to think
of him when her naturally lively imagination takes alarm or offence at
the thought that she is followed.

The Countess bethought herself of her aunt's advice, and made up her
mind that she would not stir from her place during the rest of the
journey; but every time the horses were changed she heard the Englishman
pacing round the two carriages, and again upon the road heard the
importunate sound of the wheels of his caleche. Julie soon began to
think that, when once reunited to her husband, Victor would know how to
defend her against this singular persecution.

"Yet suppose that in spite of everything, this young man does not love
me?" This was the thought that came last of all.

No sooner did she reach Orleans than the Prussians stopped the chaise.
It was wheeled into an inn-yard and put under a guard of soldiers.
Resistance was out of the question. The foreign soldiers made the three
travelers understand by signs that they were obeying orders, and that
no one could be allowed to leave the carriage. For about two hours the
Countess sat in tears, a prisoner surrounded by the guard, who smoked,
laughed, and occasionally stared at her with insolent curiosity. At
last, however, she saw her captors fall away from the carriage with a
sort of respect, and heard at the same time the sound of horses entering
the yard. Another moment, and a little group of foreign officers,
with an Austrian general at their head, gathered about the d