. She turned suddenly
again, and, coming back, stood looking into his face.

"I will go," she said. "You think it best?"

"Yes," he answered; "I think it best."

She drew a sharp breath and was about to speak when the countess
interrupted her.

"What!" she cried. "You are going away to-night like this, without any
luggage! And pray what is to become of me?"

"You can join them in America," said Paul, in his quietest tone. "Or you
can live in Paris, at last."

CHAPTER XLI

DUTY

It was not now a very cold night. There were fleecy clouds thrown like
puffs of smoke against the western sky. The moon, on the wane,--a small
crescent lying on its back,--was lowering toward the horizon. The
thermometer had risen since sunset, as it often does in March. There was
a suggestion of spring in the air. It seemed that at last the long
winter was drawing to a close; that the iron grip of frost was relaxing.

Paul went out and inspected the harness by the light of a stable lantern
held in the mittened hand of a yemschick. He had reasons of his own for
absenting himself while Catrina bade her mother farewell. He was rather
afraid of these women.

The harness inspected, he began reckoning how many hours of moonlight
might still be vouchsafed to him. The stableman, seeing the direction of
his gaze, began to talk of the weather and the possibilities of snow in
the near future. They conversed in low voices together.

Presently the door opened and Catrina came quickly out, followed by a
servant carrying a small hand-bag.

Paul could not see Catrina's face. She was veiled and furred to the
eyelids. Without a word the girl took her seat in the sleigh, and the
servant prepared the bear-skin rugs. Paul gathered up the reins and took
his place beside her. A few moments were required to draw up the rugs
and fasten them with straps; then Paul gave the word and the horses
leaped forward.

As they sped down the avenue Catrina turned and looked her last on
Thors.

Before long Paul wheeled into the trackless forest. He had come very
carefully, steering chiefly by the moon and stars, with occasional
assistance from a bend of the winding river. At times he had taken to
the ice, following the course of the stream for a few miles. No snow had
fallen; it would be easy to return on his own track. Through this part
of the forest no road was cut.

For nearly half an hour they drove in silence. Only the whistle of the
iron-bound runn