or prompt
action, which seemed to rise to demand. Steinmetz followed him out into
the passage and took him by the arm.

"You cannot do it," he said.

"Yes, I can," replied Paul. "I can find my way through the forest. No
one will venture to follow me there in the dark."

Steinmetz hesitated, shrugged his shoulders, and went back into the
room.

The ladies at Thors were dressed for dinner--were, indeed, awaiting the
announcement of that meal--when Paul broke in upon their solitude. He
did not pause to lay aside his furs, but went into the long, low room,
withdrawing his seal gloves painfully, for it was freezing as it only
can freeze in March.

The countess assailed him with many questions, more or less sensible,
which he endured patiently until the servant had left the room. Catrina,
with flushed cheeks, stood looking at him, but said nothing.

Paul withdrew his gloves and submitted to the countess' futile tugs at
his fur coat. Then Catrina spoke.

"The Baron de Chauxville has left us," she said, without knowing exactly
why.

For the moment Paul had forgotten Claude de Chauxville's existence.

"I have news for you," he said; and he gently pushed the chattering
countess aside. "Stepan Lanovitch is at Osterno. He arrived to-night."

"Ah, they have set him free, poor man! Does he wear chains on his
ankles--is his hair long? My poor Stepan! Ah, but what a stupid man!"

The countess collapsed into a soft chair. She chose a soft one,
obviously. It has to be recorded here that she did not receive the news
with unmitigated joy.

"When he was in Siberia," she gasped, "one knew at all events where he
was; and now, mon Dieu! what an anxiety!"

"I have come over to see whether you will join him to-night and go with
him to America," said Paul, looking at her.

"To--America--to-night! My dear Paul, are you mad? One cannot do such
things as that. America! that is across the sea."

"Yes," answered Paul.

"And I am such a bad sailor. Now, if it had been Paris----"

"But it cannot be," interrupted Paul. "Will you join your father
to-night?" he added, turning to Catrina.

The girl was looking at him with something in her eyes that he did not
care to meet.

"And go to America?" she asked, in a lifeless voice.

Paul nodded.

Catrina turned suddenly away from him and walked to the fire, where she
stood with her back toward him--a small, uncouth figure in black and
green, the lamplight gleaming on her wonderful hair