heart and a merry face. She was so
sure of the justice of the King's cause, so convinced of God's wrath
against the usurper, that she had no room in her thoughts for
apprehension or sadness.

The Comte de Cambray on the other hand was grave and taciturn. He had
spent hours last evening on the ramparts of Grenoble. He had watched the
dissatisfaction of the troops grow into open rebellion and from that to
burning enthusiasm for the Corsican ogre. St. Genis had given him a
vivid account of the encounter at Laffray, and his ears were still
ringing with the cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" which had filled the
streets and ramparts of Grenoble until he himself fled back to his own
chateau, sickened at all that he had seen and heard.

He knew that the King's own brother, M. le Comte d'Artois, was at Lyons
even now with forty thousand men who were reputed to be loyal, but were
not the troops of Grenoble reputed to be loyal too? and was it likely
that the regiments at Lyons would behave so very differently to those at
Grenoble?

Thus the wearisome journey northwards in the lumbering carriage
proceeded mostly in silence. None of the occupants seemed to have much
to say. Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen and M. le Comte sat on the back seats
leaning against the cushions; Crystal de Cambray and ever-faithful
Jeanne sat in front, making themselves as comfortable as they could.

There was a halt for _dejeuner_ and change of horses at Rives, and here
Maurice de St. Genis overtook the party. He proposed to continue the
journey as far as Lyons on horseback, riding close by the off side of
the carriage. Here as well as at the next halt, at St. Andre-le-Gaz,
Maurice tried to get speech with Crystal, but she seemed cold in manner
and unresponsive to his whispered words. He tried to approach her, but
she pleaded fatigue and anxiety, and he was glad then that he had made
arrangements not to travel beside her in the lumbering coach. His
position on horseback beside the carriage would, he felt, be a more
romantic one, and he half-hoped that some enterprising footpad would
give him a chance of displaying his pluck and his devotion.

A start was made from St. Andre-le-Gaz at six o'clock in the afternoon.
Crystal was getting very cramped and tired, even the fine views over the
range of the Grande Chartreuse and the long white plateau of the Dent de
Crolles, with the wintry sunset behind it, failed to enchain her
attention. Her father and her aunt slept mo